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THE    BACKWOODS    PHILOSOPHER. 
(Frontispiece.    See  page  4.0.) 


The  End  of  the  World. 


A     LOVE     STORY. 


BY 

EDWARD    EGGLESTON, 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER,"  ETC. 


WITH  THIRTY-TWO   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


NEW  YORK: 
ORANGE  JUDD  AND  COMPANY, 

245  BEOADWAT. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872,  by 

ORANGE    JUDD    &    CO., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


)SSZ, 
ES7 


PREFACE. 

[in      the      potential      mood.] 

It  is  the  pretty  unanimous  conclusion  of  book-writers  that 
prefaces  are  most  unnecessary  and  useless  prependages,  since  no- 
body reads  them.  And  it  is  the  pretty  unanimous  practice  of 
book-writers  to  continue  to  write  them  with  such  pains  and 
elaborateness  as  would  indicate  a  belief  that  the  success 
of  a  book  depends  upon  the  favorable  prejudice  begotten  of 
a  graceful  preface.  My  principal  embarrassment  is  that  it  is 
not  customary  for  a  book  to  have  more  than  one.  How 
then  shall  I  choose  between  the  half-dozen  letters  of  in- 
troduction I  might  give  my  story,  each  better  and  worse  on 
many  accounts  than  either  of  the  others  ?  I  am  rather 
inclined  to  adopt  the  following,  which  might  for  some  rea- 
sons be  styled  the 

PKEFACE    SENTIMENTAL. 

Perhaps  no  writer  not  infatuated  with  conceit,  can  send  out  a 
book  full  of  thought  and  feeling  which,  whatever  they  may  be 
worth,  are  his  own,  without  a  parental  anxiety  in  regard  to  the  fate 
of  his  offspring.  And  there  are  few  prefaces  which  do  not  in  some 
way  betray  this  nervousness.  I  confess  to  a  respect  for  even  the 
prefatory  doggerel  of  good  Tinker  Bunyan — a  respect  for  his  paternal 
tenderness  toward  his  book,  not  at  all  for  his  villainous  rhyming. 
When  I  saw,  the  other  day,  the  white  handkerchiefs  of  my  children 
waving  an  adieu  as  they  sailed  away  from  me,  a  profound  anxiety 
seized  me.  So  now,  as  I  part  company  with  August  and  Julia,  with 
my  beloved  Jonas  and  my  much-respected  Cynthy  Ann,  with  the 
mud-clerk  on  the  Iatan,  and  the  shaggy  lord  of  Shady-Hollow  Castle, 
and  the  rest,  that  have  watched  with  me  of  nights  and  crossed  the 


881880 


6  PBEFACE. 

ferry  with  me  twice  a  day  for  half  a  year — even  now,  as  I  see  them 
waving  me  adieu  with  their  red  silk  and  "yaller"  cotton  "hand- 
kerchers,"  I  know  how  many  rocks  of  misunderstanding  and  crit- 
icism and  how  many  shoals  of  damning  faint  praise  are  before  them, 
and  my  heart  is  full  of  misgiving. 

But  it  will  never  do  to  have  misgivings  in  a  preface.    How 

often  have  publishers  told  me  this  !  Ah !  if  I  could  write  with 
half  the  heart  and  hope  my  publishers  evince  in  their  adver- 
tisements, where  they  talk  about  "  front  rank  "  and  "  great  Amer- 
ican story "  and  all  that,  it  would  doubtless  be  better  for  the 
book,  provided  anybody  would  read  the  preface  or  believe  it 
when  they  had  read  it.  But  at  any  rate  let  us  not  have  a 
preface  in  the  minor  key. 

A  philosophical  friend  of  mine,  who  is  addicted  to  Carlyle, 
has  recommended  that  I  try  the  following,  which  he  calls 

THE    HIGH    PHILOSOPHICAL    PREFACE. 

Why  should  I  try  to  forestall  the  Verdict  ?  Is  it  not  foreordained 
in  the  very  nature  of  a  Book  and  the  Constitution  of  the  Reader 
that  a  certain  very  Definite  Number  of  Readers  will  misunderstand 
and  dislike  a  given  Book  ?  And  that  another  very  Definite  Number 
will  understand  it  and  dislike  it  none  the  less  ?  And  that  still  a 
third  class,  also  definitely  fixed  in  the  Eternal  Nature  of  Things,  will 
misunderstand  and  like  it,  and,  what  is  more,  like  it  only  because 
of  their  misunderstanding?  And  in  relation  to  a  true  Book,  there 
can  not  fail  to  be  an  Elect  Few  who  understand  admiringly  and 
understandingly  admire.  Why,  then,  make  bows,  write  prefaces, 
attempt  to  prejudice  the  Case  ?  Can  I  change  the  Reader  ?  Will  I 
change  the  Book  ?  No  ?  Then  away  with  Preface  !  The  destiny  of 
the  Book  is  fixed.  I  can  not  foretell  it,  for  I  am  no  prophet.  But  let 
us  not  hope  to  change  the  Fates  by  our  prefatory  bowing  and  scraping. 

1  was  forced  to  confess  to  my  friend  who  was  so  kind  as  to 

offer  to  lend  me  this  preface,  that  there  was  much  truth  in  it 
and  that  truth  is  nowhere  more  rare  than  in  prefaces,  but 
it  was  not  possible   to   adopt  it,  for  two   reasons:    one,  that 


PREFACE.  7 

my  proof-reader  can  not  abide  so  many  capitals,  maintaining 
that  they  disfigure  the  page,  and  what  is  a  preface  of  the 
high  philosophical  sort  worth  without  a  profusion  of  capitals  ? 
Even  Carlyle's  columns  would  lose  their  greatest  ornament  if 
their  capitals  were  gone.  The  second  reason  for  declining  to 
use  this  preface  was  that  my  publishers  are  not  philosophers 
and  would  never  be  content  with  an  "  Elect  Few,"  and  for 
my  own  part  the  pecuniary  interest  I  have  in  the  copyright 
renders  it  quite  desirable  that  as  many  as  possible  should  be 
elected  to  like  it,  or  at  least  to  buy  it. 

After  all  it  seems  a  pity  that  I  can  not  bring  myself  to  use  a 
straightforward 

APOLOGETIC  AND  EXPLANATORY  PREFACE. 

In  view  of  the  favor  bestowed  upon  the  author's  previous  6tory,  both 
by  the  Public  who  Criticise  and  the  Public  who  Buy,  it  seems  a  little 
ungracious  to  present  so  soon,  another,  the  scene  of  which  is  also 
laid  in  the  valley  of  the  Ohio.  But  the  picture  of  Western  country 
life  in  "  The  Hoosier  School-Master  "  would  not  have  been  complete 
without  this  companion-piece,  which  presents  a  different  phase  of  it. 
And  iudeed  there  is  no  provincial  life  richer  in  material  if  only  one 
knew  how  to  get  at  it. 

Nothing  is  more  reverent  than  a  wholesome  hatred  of  hypocri- 
sy. If  any  man  think  I  have  offended  against  his  religion,  I  must 
believe  that  his  religion  is  not  what  it  should  be.  If  anybody 
shall  imagine  that  this  is  a  work  of  religious  controversy  leveled 
at  the  Adventists,  he  will  have  wholly  mistaken  my  meaning.  Lit- 
eralism and  fanaticism  are  not  vices  confined  to  any  one  sect.  They 
are,  unfortunately,  pretty  widely  distributed.    However,  if 

And  so  on. 

But  why  multiply  examples  of  the  half-dozen  or  more  that 
I  might,  could,  would,  or  should  have  written  ?     Since  every- 
body is  agreed  that  nobody  reads  a  preface,  I  have  concluded 
to  let  the  book  go  without  any. 
Brooklyn,  September,  1872, 


11  And  as  he  [  Wordsworth]  mingled  freely  with  all  kinds  of  men,  he  found 
a  pith  of  sense  and  a  solidity  of  judgment  here  and  there  among  the  unlearned 
which  he  had  failed  to  find  in  the  most  lettered;  from  obscure  men  he 

heard  high  truths And  love,  true  love  and  pure,  he 

found  was  no  flower  reared  only  in  what  was  called  refined  society,  and 

requiring  leisure  and  polished  manners  for  its  growth 

He  believed  that  in  country  people,  what  is  permanent  in  human  nature, 
the  essential  feelings  and  passions  of  mankind,  exist  in  greater  simplicity 
and  strength."— Principal  Shairp. 


A.     DEDICATION. 


It  would  hardly  be  in  character  for  me  to  dedicate  this  book 
in  good,  stiff,  old-fashioned  tomb-stone  style,  but  I  could  not  have 
put  in  the  background  of  scenery  without  being  reminded  of  the 
two  boys,  inseparable  as  the  Siamese  twins,  who  gathered  mussel- 
shells  in  the  river  marge,  played  hide-and-seek  in  the  hollow  syca- 
mores, and  led  a  happy  life  in  the  shadow  of  just  such  hills  as  those 
among  which  the  events  of  this  story  took  place.  And  all  the  more 
that  the  generous  boy  who  was  my  playmate  then  is  the  generous 
man  who  has  relieved  me  of  many  burdens  while  I  wrote  this  story, 
do  I  feel  impelled  to  dedicate  it  to  Gbobgb  Caby  Eggleston,  a 
manly  man  and  a  brotherly  brother. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter 
Chapter 

I. 
II. 

Chapter 

m. 

Chapter 

IV.- 

Chapter 

V. 

Chapter 

VI.- 

Chapter 

VII. 

Chapter 

VIII. 

Chapter 

IX.- 

Chapter 

X. 

Chapter 

XL 

Chapter 

XII.- 

Chapter 

xm. 

Chapter 

XIV.- 

Chapter 

XV. 

Chapter 

XVI. 

Chapter 

xvn. 

Chapter 

XVIII. 

Chapter 

XIX. 

Chapter 

XX. 

Chapter 

XXI. 

Chapter 

XXII 

Chapter 

XXIII. 

Chapter 

XXIV. 

Chapter 

XXV. 

Chapter 

XXVI. 

Chapter 

XXVII. 

Chapter 

XXVIII. 

Chapter 

XXIX. 

Chapter 

XXX. 

Chapter 

XXXI. 

Chapter 

XXXII. 

Chapter 

XXXIII. 

Chapter 

XXXIV. 

Chapter 

XXXV. 

Chapter 

XXXVI. 

Chapter 

xxxvri. 

Chapter  XXXVIII. 

Chapter 

XXXIX. 

Chapter 

XL. 

—In  Love  with  a  Dutchman ll 

—An  Explosion 22 

—A  Farewell l>6 

—A  Counter-irritant 35 

—At  the  Castle 39 

—The  Backwoods  Philosopher 47 

—Within  and  Without 54 

Figgers  won't  Lie 57 

— The  New  Singing-Master 62 

An  Offer  of  Help 71 

The  Coon-dog  Argument 75 

—Two  Mistakes 79 

-The  Spider  Spins 89 

-Th«  Spider's  Web 94 

—The  Web  Broken 101 

—Jonas  Expounds  the  Subject 109 

—The  Wrong  Pew 115 

—The  Encounter 123 

—The  Mother 129 

—The  Steam-Doctor 133 

—The  Hawk  in  a  New  Part 145 

— Jonas  Expresses  his  Opinion  on  Dutchmen 149 

— Somethin'  Ludikerous 154 

—The  Giant  Great-heart 162 

—A  Chapter  of  Betweens 167 

—A  Nice  Little  Game 171 

—The  Result  of  an  Evening  with  Gentlemen 181 

—Waking  up  an  Ugly  Customer 187 

—August  and  Norman 193 

—Aground 197 

— Cynthy  Ann's  Sacrifice 200 

.—Julia's  Enterprise 207 

—The  Secret  Stairway 212 

—The  Interview 215 

—Getting  Ready  for  the  End 220 

.—The  Sin  of  Sanctimony 225 

—The  Deluge 232 

.—Scaring  a  Hawk 238 

. — Jonas  takes  an  Appeal 243 

.-Selling  out 251 


10  CONTENTS. 


Chapter     XLL— The  Last  Day  and  What  Happened  in  it 256 

Chapter    XLII.— For  Ever  and  Ever... ; 264 

Chapter  XLIIL— The  Midnight  Alarm 271 

Chapter  XLIV.— Squaring  Accounts 278 

Chapter    XLV.— New  Plans 288 

Chapter  XL VI.—  The  Shiveree 293 


4 

ILLUSTEATION8. 

By   FRANK    BEARD. 


The  Backwoods  Philosopher Frontispiece. 

Taking  an  Observation 14 

A  Talk  with  a  Plowman 17 

A  little  rustle  brought  her  to  consciousness 31 

Gottlieb 36 

The  Castle 41 

The  Sedilium  at  the  Castle 45 

"  Look  at  me  " 49 

"Don't  be  oncharitable,  Jonas " 64 

The  Hawk 67 

"  Tell  that  to  Jule  " 85 

Tempted ....  91 

M  Now  I  hate  you  " 97 

At  Cynthy's  Door 102 

Cynthy  Ann  had  often  said  in  class-meeting  that  temptations  abounded  on 

-  every  hand 105 

Jonas 112 

Julia  sat  down  in  mortification 121 

"  Good-by  !  " , 126 

The  Mother's  Blessing 131 

Corn-Sweats  and  Calamus 134 

"Fire!    Murder  1    Help!" 137 

Norman  Anderson 151 

Somethin'  Ludikerous 157 

To  the  Rescue ". 163 

A  Nice  Little  Game 173 

The  Mud-Clerk 183 

Waking  up  an  Ugly  Customer 191 

Cynthy  Ann's  Sacrifice 204 

A  Pastoral  Visit 227 

Brother  Goshorn 24<J 

"  Say  them  words  over  again  " 246 

"  I  want  to  buy  your  place  " 253 


THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 


CHAPTER    I. 


IN    LOVE    WITH   A   DUTCHMAN. 


DON'T  believe  that  you'd  care  a  cent  if  she 
did  marry  a  Dutchman  !  She  might  as  well  as  to 
marry  some  white  folks  I  know." 

Samuel  Anderson  made  no  reply.  It  would 
be  of  no  use  to  reply.  Shrews  are  tamed  only  by 
silence.  Anderson  had  long  since  learned  that  the  little  shred 
of  influence  which  remained  to  him  in  his  own  house  would 
disappear  whenever  his  teeth  were  no  longer  able  to  shut  his 
tongue  securely  in.  So  now,  when  his  wife  poured  out  this 
hot  lava  of  argumentum  ad  hominem,  he  closed  the  teeth  down 
in  a  dead -lock  way  over  the  tongue,  and  compressed  the  lips 
tightly  over  the  teeth,  and  shut  his  finger-nails  into  his  work- 
hardened  palms.  And  then,  distrusting  all  these  precautions, 
fearing  lest  he  should  be  unable  to  hold  on  to  his  temper  even 
11 


12  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

with  this  grip,  the  little  man  strode  out  of  the  house  with  his 
wife's  shrill  voice  in  his  ears. 

Mrs.  Anderson  had  good  reason  to  fear  that  her  daughter 
was  in  love  with  a  "  Dutchman,"  as  she  phrased  it  in  her  con- 
tempt. The  few  Germans  who  had  penetrated  to  the  West  at 
that  time  were  looked  upon  with  hardly  more  favor  than  the 
Californians  feel  for  the  almond-eyed  Chinaman.  They  were 
foreigners,  who  would  talk  gibberish  instead  of  the  plain  Eng- 
lish which  everybody  could  understand,  and  they  were  not  yet 
civilized  enough  to  like  the  yellow  saleratus-biscuit  and  the 
"salt-rising"  bread  of  which  their  neighbors  were  so  fond. 
Reason  enough  to  hate  them  ! 

Only  half  an  hour  before  this  outburst  of  Mrs.  Anderson's, 
she  had  set  a  trap  for  her  daughter  Julia,  and  had  fairly 
caught  her. 

"  Jule !  Jule  !  O  Jul-y-e-ee  ! "  she  had  called. 
And  Julia,  who  was  down  in*  the  garden  hoeing  a  bed  in 
which  she  meant  to  plant  some  "Johnny -jump- ups,"  came 
quickly  toward  the  house,  though  she  knew  it  would  be  of  no 
use  to  come  quickly.  Let  her  come  quickly,  or  let  her  come 
slowly,  the  rebuke  was  sure  to   greet  her  all  the  same. 

"  "Why  don't  you  come  when  you're  called,  Pd  like  to  know ! 
You're  never  in  reach  when  you're  wanted,  and  you're  good 
for  nothing  when  you  are  here!" 

Julia  Anderson's  earliest  lesson  from  her  mother's  lips  had 
been  that  she  was  good  for  nothing.  And  every  day  and  almost 
every  hour  since  had  brought  her  repeated  assurances  that  she 
was  good  for  nothing.  If  she  had  not  been  good  for  a  great 
deal,  she  would  long  since  have  been  good  for  nothing  as  the 
result  of  such  teaching.     But  though  this  was  not  the  first,  nor 


IN  LOVE   WITH    A   DUTCHMAJN.  13 

the  thousandth,  nor  the  ten  thousandth  time  that  she  had  been 
told  that  she  was  good  for  nothing,  the  accustomed  insult 
seemed  to  sting  her  now  more  than  ever.  Was  it  that,  being 
almost  eighteen,  she  was  beginning  to  feel  the  woman  blos- 
soming in  her  nature?  Or,  was  it  that  the  tender  words  of 
August  Wehle  had  made  her  sure  that  she  was  good  for  some- 
thing, that  now  her  heart  felt  her  mother's  insult  to  be  a  stale, 
selfish,  ill-natured  lie  ? 

"Take  this  cup  of  tea  over  to  Mrs.  Malcolm's,  and  tell  her 
that  it  a'n't  quite  as  good  as  what  I  borried  of  her  last  week. 
And  tell  her  that  they'll  be  a  new-fangled  preacher  at  the 
school-house  a  Sunday,  a  Millerite  or  somethin',  a  preachin' 
about  the  end  of  the  world." 

Julia  did  not  say  "Yes,  ma'am,"  in  her  usually  meek  style. 
She  smarted  a  little  yet  from  the  harsh  words,  and  so  went 
away  in  silence. 

Why  did  she  walk  fast  ?  Had  she  noticed  that  August 
Wehle,  who  was  "breaking  up"  her  father's  north  field,  was 
just  plowing  down  the  -..est  side  of  his  land  ?  If  she  hast- 
ened, she  might  reach  the  cross-fence  as  he  came  round  to 
it,  and  while  he  was  yet  hidden  from  the  sight  of  the  house 
by  the  turn  of  the  hill.  And  would  not  a  few  words  from 
August  Wehle  be  pleasant  to  her  ears  after  her  mother's  sharp 
depreciation  ?  It  is  at  least  safe  to  conjecture  that  some  such 
feeling  made  her  hurry  through  the  long,  waving  timothy  of  the 
meadow,  and  made  her  cross  the  log  that  spanned  the  brook 
without  ever  so  much  as  stopping  to  look  at  the  minnows 
glancing  about  in  the  water  flecked  with  the  sunlight  that 
struggled  through  the  boughs  of  the  water-willows.  For,  in 
her  thorough  loneliness,  Julia  Anderson  had  come  to  love  the 


14 


THE    END    OF    THE    WOULD. 


birds,  the  squirrels,  and  the  fishes  as  companions,  and  in  all  her 
life  she  had  never  before  crossed  the  meadow  brook  without 
stooping  to  look  at  the  minnows. 

All  this  haste  Mrs.  Anderson  noticed.    Having  often  scolded 


TAKING    AN    OBSERVATION. 


Julia  for  "talking  to  the  fishes  like  a  fool,"  she  noticed  the 
omission.  And  now  she  only  waited  until  Julia  was  over  the 
hill  to  take  the  path  round  the  fence  under  shelter  of  the  black- 
berry thicket,  until  she  came  to  the  clump  of    elders,  from  the 


XN    LOVE    WITH    A    DUTCHMAN.  15 

midst  of  which  she  could  plainly  see  if  any  conversation  should 
take  place  between  her  Julia  and  the  comely  young  Dutchman. 

In  fact,  Julia  need  not  have  hurried  so  much.  For  August 
Wehle  had  kept  one  eye  on  his  horses  and  the  other  on  the 
house  all  that  day.  It  was  the  quick  look  of  intelligence  be- 
tween the  two  at  dinner  that  had  aroused  the  mother's  suspi- 
cions. And  "Wehle  had  noticed  the  work  on  the  garden-bed,  the 
call  to  the  house,  and  the  starting  of  Julia  on  the  path  toward 
Mrs.  Malcolm's.  His  face  had  grown  hot,  and  his  hand  had 
trembled.  For  once  he  had  failed  to  see  the  stone  in  his  way, 
until  the  plow  was  thrown  clean  from  the  furrow.  And  when 
he  came  to  the  shade  of  the  butternut-tree  by  which  she  must 
pass,  it  had  seemed  to  him  imperative  that  the  horses  should 
rest.  Besides,  the  hames-string  wanted  tightening  on  the  bay, 
and  old  Dick's  throat-latch  must  need  a  little  fixing.  He  was 
not  sure  that  the  clevis-pin  had  not  been  loosened  by  the  col- 
lision with  the  stone  just  now.  And  so,  upon  one  pretext  and 
another,  he  managed  to  delay  starting  his  plow  until  Julia  came 
by,  and  then,  though  his  heart  had  counted  all  her  steps  from 
the  doOr-stone  to  the  tree,  then  he  looked  up  surprised.  Noth- 
ing could  be  so  astonishing  to  him  as  to  see  her  there !  For  love 
is  needlessly  crafty,  it  has  always  an  instinct  of  concealment,  of 
indirection  about  it.  The  boy,  and  especially  the  girl,  who 
will  tell  the  truth  frankly  in  regard  to  a  love  affair  is  a  miracle 
of  veracity.  But  there  are  such,  and  they  are  to  be  reverenced 
— with  the  reverence  paid  to  martyrs. 

On  her  part,  Julia  Anderson  had  walked  on  as  though  she 
meant  to  pass  the  young  plowman  by,  until  he  spoke,  and  then 
she  started,  and  blushed,  and  stopped,  and  nervously  broke  off 
the  top    of    a    last    year's  iron-weed  and  began  to  break  it  into 


16  THE    END    OP    THE   WORLD. 

bits  while  he  talked,  looking  down  most  of  the  time,  but  lifting 
her  eyes  to  his  now  and  then.  And  to  the  sun-browned  but 
delicate-faced  young  German  it  seemed  a  vision  of  Paradise — 
every  glimpse  of  that  fresh  girl's  face  in  the  deep  shade  of  the 
sun-bonnet.  For  girls'  faces  can  never  look  so  sweet  in  this 
generation  as  they  did  to  the  boys  who  caught  sight  of  them, 
hidden  away,  precious  things,  in  the  obscurity  of  a  tunnel  of 
pasteboard  and  calico! 

This  was  not  their  first  love-talk.  Were  they  engaged  ? 
Yes,  and  no.  By  all  the  speech  their  eyes  were  capable  of  in 
school,  and  of  late  by  words,  they  were  engaged  in  loving  one 
another,  and  in  telling  one  another  of  it.  But  they  were  young, 
and  separated  by  circumstances,  and  they  had  hardly  begun  to 
think  of  marriage  yet.  It  was  enough  for  the  present  to  love  and 
be  loved.  The  most  delightful  stage  of  a  love  affair  is  that  in 
which  the  present  is  sufficient  and  there  is  no  past  or  future. 
And  so  August  hung  his  elbow  around  the  top  of  the  bay  horse's 
hames,  and  talked  to  Julia. 

It  is  the  highest  praise  of  the  German  heart  that  it  loves 
flowers  and  little  children ;  and  like  a  German  and  like  a  lover 
that  he  was,  August  began  to  speak  of  the  anemones  and  the 
violets  that  were  already  blooming  in  the  corners  of  the  fence. 
Girls  in  love  are  not  apt  to  say  anything  very  fresh.  And  Julia 
only  said  she  thought  the  flowers  seemed  happy  in  the  sun- 
light. In  answer  to  this  speech,  which  seemed  to  the  lover  a  bit 
of  inspiration,  he  quoted  from  Schiller  the  lines: 

41  Yet  weep,   soft  children  of   the  Spring; 
The  feelings  Love  alone  can  hring 
Have  been  denied  to  you ! " 

With  the  quick  and  crafty  modesty  of  her  sex,  Julia  evaded 


»•- 


IS   LOVE    WITH    A    DUTCHMAN.  19 

this  very  pleasant   shaft   by  saying:    "How   much  you  know, 
August !    How  do  you   learn  it  ? "   ^^ 

And  August  was  pleased,  partly  because  of  the  compliment, 
but  chiefly  because  in  saying  it  Julia  had  brought  the  sun-bon- 
net in  such  a  range  that  he  could  see  the  bright  eyes  and  blushing 
face  at  the  bottom  of  this  camera-oacura.  He  did  not  hasten  to 
reply.  While  the  vision  lasted  he  enjoyed  the  vision.  Not  until 
the  sun-bonnet  dropped  did  he  take  up  the  answer  to  her  question. 
"  I  don't  know  much,  but  what  I  do  know  I  have  learned  out 
of  your  Uncle  Andrew's  books." 

"  Do  you  know  my  Uncle  Andrew  ?  What  a  strange  man  he 
is !  He  never  comes  here,  and  we  never  go  there,  and  my  mother 
never  speaks  to  him,  and  my  father  doesn't  often  have  anything 
to  say  to  him.  And  so  you  have  been  at  his  house.  They  say 
he  has  all  up-stairs  full  of  books,  and  ever  so  many  cats  and 
dogs  and  birds  and  squirrels  about.  But  I  thought  he  never  let 
anybody  go  up-stairs." 

"He  lets  me,"  said  August,  when  she  had  ended  her  speech 
and  dropped  her  sun-bonnet  again  out  of  the  range  of  his 
eyes,  which,  in  truth,  were  too  steadfast  in  their  gaze.  "  I  spend 
many  evenings  up-stairs."  August  had  just  a  trace  of  German 
in  his  idiom. 

"What  makes  Uncle  Andrew  so  curious,  I  wonder?" 
"I  don't  exactly  know.  Some  say  he  was  treated  not  just 
right  by  a  woman  when  he  was  a  young  man.  I  don't  know. 
He  seems  happy.  I  don't  wonder  a  man  should  be  curious 
though  when  a  woman  that  he  loves  treats  him  not  just  right. 
Any  way,  if  he  loves  her  with  all  his  heart,  as  I  love  Jule 
Anderson ! " 

These  last  words  came  with  an  effort.     And  Julia  just  then 


20  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

remembered  her  errand,  and  said,  "  I  must  hurry,"  and,  with  a 
country  girl's  agility,  she  climbed  over  the  fence  before  August 
could  help  her,  and  gave  him  another  look  through  her  bon- 
net-telescope from  the  other  side,  and  then  hastened  on  to  return 
the  tea,  and  to  tell  Mrs.  Malcolm  that  there  was  to  be  a  Millerite 
preacher  at  the  school-house  on  Sunday  night.  And  August 
found  that  his  horses  were  quite  cool,  while  he  was  quite  hot. 
He  cleaned  his  mold-board,  and  swung  his  plow  round,  and 
then,  with  a  "  Whoa  !  haw  ! "  and  a  pull  upon  the  single  line 
which  Western  plowmen  use  to  guide  their  horses,  he  drew  the 
team  into  their  place,  and  set  himself  to  watching  the  turning 
of  the  rich,  fragrant  black  earth.  And  even  as  he  set  his  plow- 
share, so  he  set  his  purpose  to  overcome  all  obstacles,  and  to  marry 
Julia  Anderson.  With  the  same  steady,  irresistible,  onward 
course  would  he  overcome  all  that  lay  between  him  and  the 
soul  that  shone  out  of  the  face  that  dwelt  in  the  bottom  of  the 
sun-bonnet. 

From  her  covert  in  the  elder-busheB  Mrs.  Anderson  had  seen 
the  parley,  and  her  cheeks  had  also  grown  hot,  but  from  a  very 
different  emotion.  She  had  not  heard  the  words.  She  had  seen 
the  loitering  girl  and  the  loitering  plowboy,  and  she  went  back 
to  the  house  vowing  that  she'd  "teach  Jule  Anderson  how  to 
spend  her  time  talking  to  a  Dutchman."  And  yet  the  more  she 
thought  of  it,  the  more  she  was  satisfied  that  it  wasn't  best  to 
"  make  a  fuss "  just  yet.  She  might  hasten  what  she  wanted  to 
prevent.  For  though  Julia  was  obedient  and  mild  in  word,  she 
was  none  the  less  a  little  stubborn,  and  in  a  matter  of  this  sort 
might  take  the  bit  in  her  teeth. 

And  so  Mrs.  Anderson  had  recourse,  as  usual,  to  her  hus- 
band.   She  knew  she  could  browbeat  him.     She  demanded  that 


IN   LOVE    WITH    A    DUTCHMAN.  21 

August  Wehle  should  be  paid  off  and  discharged.  And  when 
Anderson  had  hesitated,  because  he  feared  he  could  not  get 
another  so  good  a  hand,  and  for  other  reasons,  she  burst  out 
into  the  declaration : 

"I  don't  believe  that  you'd  care  a  cent  if  she  did  marry  a 
Dutchman !  She  might  as  well  as  to  marry  some  white  folks  I 
know." 


22  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 


CHAPTER     II. 


AN    EXPLOSION. 


!T  was  settled  that  August  was  to  be  quietly 
discharged  at  the  end  of  his  month,  which  was 
Saturday  night.  Neither  he  nor  Julia  must  suspect 
any  opposition  to  their  attachment,  nor  any  discovery 
of  it,  indeed.  This  was  settled  by  Mrs.  Anderson. 
She  usually  settled  things.  First,  she  settled  upon  the  course 
to  be  pursued.  Then  she  settled  her  husband.  He  always  made 
a  show  of  resistance.  His  dignity  required  a  show  of  resistance. 
But  it  was  only  a  show.  He  always  meant  to  surrender  in  the 
end.  Whenever  his  wife  ceased  her  fire  of  small-arms  and  her- 
self hung  out  the  flag  of  truce,  he  instantly  capitulated.  As  in 
every  other  dispute,  so  in  this  one  about  the  discharge  of  the 
"miserable,  impudent  Dutchman,"  Mrs.  Anderson  attacked  her 
husband  at  all  his  weak  points,  and  she  had  learned  by  heart  a 
catalogue  of  his  weak  points.  Then,  when  he  was  sufficiently 
galled  to  be  entirely  miserable  ;  when  she  had  expressed  her 
regret  that  she  hadn't  married  somebody  with  some  heart, 
and  that  she  had  ever  left  her  father's  house,  for  her  father  was 
always  good  to  her;  and  when  she  had  sufficiently  reminded 
him  of  the  lover  she  had  given  up  for  him,  and  of  how  much 
he  had  loved  her,  and  how  miserable  she  had  made  him  by 
loving   Samuel  Anderson — when  she  had  conducted  the  quarrel 


AN   EXPLOSION.  23 

through  all  the  preliminary  stages,  she  always  carried  her  point 
in  the  end  by  a  coup  de  partie  somewhat  in  this  fashion : 

"  That's  just  the  way  !  Always  the  way  with  you  men ! 
I  suppose  I  must  give  up  to  you  as  usual.  You've  lorded  it 
over  me  from  the  start.  I  can't  even  have  the  management  of 
my  own  daughter.  But  I  do  think  that  after  I've  let  you  have 
your  way  in  so  many  things,  you  might  turn  off  that  fellow. 
You  might  let  me  have  my  way  in  one  little  thing,  and  you  would 
if  you  cared  for  me.  You  know  how  liable  I  am  to  die  at  any 
moment  of  heart-disease,  and  yet  you  will  prolong  this  excite- 
ment in  this  way." 

Now,  there  is  nothing  a  weak  man  likes  so  much  as  to  be 
considered  strong,  nothing  a  henpecked  man  likes  so  much 
as  to  be  regarded  a  tyrant.  If  you  ever  hear  a  man  boast  of 
his  determination  to  rule  his  own  house,  you  may  feel  sure 
that  he  is  subdued.  And  a  henpecked  husband  always  makes 
a  great  show  of  opposing  everything  that  looks  toward  the  en- 
largement of  the  work  or  privileges  of  women.  Such  a  man 
insists  on  the  shadow  of  authority  because  he  can  not  have 
the  substance.  It  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  him  that  his  wife 
can  never  be  president,  and  that  she  can  not  make  speeches 
in  prayer-meeting.  While  he  retains  these  badges  of  superiority, 
he  is  still  in  some  sense  head  of  the  family. 

So  when  Mrs.  Anderson  loyally  reminded  her  husband  that 
she  had  always  let  him  have  his  own  way,  he  believed  her 
because  he  wanted  to,  though  he  could  not  just  at  the  moment 
recall  the  particular  instances.  And  knowing  that  he  must  yield, 
he  rather  liked  to  yield  as  an  act  of  sovereign  grace  to  the  poor 
oppressed  wife  who  begged  it. 

"  Well,  if  you  insist  on  it,  of  course,  I  will  not  refuse  you," 


24  THE   END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

he  said;  "and  perhaps  you  are  right."  He  had  yielded  in  this 
way  almost  every  day  of  his  married  life,  and  in  this  way  he 
yielded  to  the  demand  that  August  should  be  discharged.  But 
he  agreed  with  his  wife  that  Julia  should  not  know  anything 
about  it,  and  that  there  must  be  no  leave-taking  allowed. 

The  very  next  day  Julia  sat  sewing  on  the  long  porch  in 
front  of  the  house.  Cynthy  Ann  was  getting  dinner  in  the 
kitchen  at  the  other  end  of  the  hall,  and  Mrs.  Anderson  was 
busy  in  her  usual  battle  with  dirt.  She  kept  the  house  clean, 
because  it  gratified  her  combativeness  and  her  domineering  dis- 
position to  have  the  house  clean  in  spite  of  the  ever-encroach- 
ing dirt.  And  so  she  scrubbed  and  scolded,  and  scolded  and 
scrubbed,  the  scrubbing  and  scolding  agreeing  in  time  and 
rhythm.  The  scolding  was  the  vocal  music,  the  scrubbing  an 
accompaniment.  The  concordant  discord  was  perfect.  Just  at 
the  moment  I  speak  of  there  was  a  lull  in  her  scolding.  The 
symphonious  scrubbing  went  on  as  usual.  Julia,  wishing  to 
divert  the  next  thunder-storm  from  herself,  erected  what  she 
imagined  might  prove  a  conversational  lightning-rod,  by  asking 
a  question  on  a  topic  foreign  to  the  theme  of  the  last  march 
her  mother  had  played  and  sung  so  sweetly  with  brush  and 
voice. 

"  Mother,  what  makes  Uncle  Andrew  so  queer  ?  " 

"I  don't  know.  He  was  always  queer."  This  was  spoken 
in  a  staccato,  snapping-turtle  way.  But  when  one  has  lived 
all  one's  life  with  a  snapping-turtle,  one  doesn't  mind.  Julia  did 
not  mind.  She  was  curious  to  know  what  was  the  matter  with 
her  uncle,  Andrew  Anderson.     So  she  said: 

"I've  heard  that  some  false  woman  treated  him  cruelly;  is 
that  so?" 


AN    EXPLOSION.  25 

Julia  did  not  see  how  red  her  mother's  face  was,  for  she 
was  not  regarding  her. 

"  Who  told  you  that  ? "  Julia  was  so  used  to  hearing  her 
mother  speak  in  an  excited  way  that  she  hardly  noticed  the 
strange  tremor  in  this  question. 

"  August." 

The  symphony  ceased  in  a  moment.  The  scrubbing-brush 
dropped  in  the  pail  of  soapsuds.  But  the  vocal  storm  burst 
forth  with  a  violence  that  startled  even  Julia.  "August  said 
tliat,  did  he  ?  And  you  listened,  did  you  ?  You  listened  to 
that  ?  You  listened  to  that  ?  You  listened  to  that  t  Hey  ?  He 
slandered  your  mother.  You  listened  to  him  slander  your 
mother ! "  By  this  time  Mrs.  Anderson  was  at  white  heat.  Julia 
was  speechless.  "  I  saw  you  yesterday  flirting  with  that  Dutch- 
man, and  listening  to  his  abuse  of  your  mother !  And  now  you 
insult  me !  Well,  to-morrow  will  be  the  last  day  that  that 
Dutchman  will  hold  a  plow  on  this  place.  And  you'd  better 
look  out  for  yourself,  miss  !     You " 

Here  followed  a  volley  of  epithets  which  Julia  received 
standing.  But  when  her  mother's  voice  grew  to  a  scream, 
Julia  took  the  word. 

"  Mother,  hush  ! " 

It  was  the  first  word  of  resistance  she  had  ever  uttered. 
The  agony  within  must  have  been  terrible  to  have  wrung  it 
from  her.  The  mother  was  stunned  with  anger  and  astonish- 
ment. She  could  not  recover  herself  enough  to  speak  until  Jule 
had  fled  half-way  up  the  stairs.  Then  her  mother  covered  her 
defeat  by  screaming  after  her,  "  Go  to  your  own  room,  you  im- 
pudent hussy !  You  know  I  am  liable  to  die  of  heart-disease  any 
minute,  and  you  want  to  kill  me  I " 


26  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 


CHAPTER     III 


A  FAREWELL. 


RS.  ANDERSON  felt  that  she  had  made  a 
mistake.  She  had  not  meant  to  tell  Julia  that 
August  was  to  leave.  But  now  that  this  stormy 
scene  had  taken  place,  she  thought  she  could 
make  a  good  use  of  it.  She  knew  that  her  hus- 
band co-operated  with  her  in  her  opposition  to  "  the  Dutchman," 
only  because  he  was  afraid  of  his  wife.  In  his  heart,  Samuel 
Anderson  could  not  refuse  anything  to  his  daughter.  Denied 
any  of  the  happiness  which  most  men  find  in  loving  their  wives, 
he  found  consolation  in  the  love  of  his  daughter.  Secretly,  as 
though  his  paternal  affection  were  a  crime,  he  caressed  Julia,  and 
his  wife  was  not  long  in  discovering  that  the  father  cared  more 
for  a  loving  daughter  than  for  a  shrewish  wife.  She  watched 
him  jealously,  and  had  come  to  regard  her  daughter  as  one  who 
had  supplanted  her  in  her  husband's  affections,  and  her  husband 
as  robbing  her  of  the  love  of  her  daughter.  In  truth,  Mrs. 
Samuel  Anderson  had  come  to  stand  bo  perpetually  on  guard 
against   imaginary  encroachments   on  her  rights,  that  she  saw 


X   FAREWELL.  27 

enemies  everywhere.  She  hated  Wehle  because  he  was  a  Dutch- 
man ;  she  would  have  hated  him  on  a  dozen  other  scores  if  he 
had  been  an  American.  It  was  offense  enough  that  Julia  loved 
him. 

So  now  she  resolved  to  gain  her  husband  to  her  side  by  her 
version  of  the  story,  and  before  dinner  she  had  told  him  how 
August  had  charged  her  with  being  false  and  cruel  to  Andrew 
many  years  ago,  and  how  Jule  had  thrown  it  up  to  her,  and  how 
near  she  had  come  to  dropping  down  with  palpitation  of  the 
heart.  And  Samuel  Anderson  reddened,  and  declared  that  he 
would  protect  his  wife  from  such  insults.  The  notion  that  he 
protected  his  wife  was  a  pleasant  fiction  of  the  little  man's, 
which  received  a  generous  encouragement  at  the  hands  of  his 
wife.  It  was  a  favorite  trick  of  hers  to  throw  herself,  in  a  meta- 
phorical way,  at  his  feet,  a  helpless  woman,  and  in  her  feeble- 
ness implore  his  protection.  And  Samuel  felt  all  the  courage 
of  knighthood  in  defending  his  inoffensive  wife.  Under  cover 
of  this  fiction,  so  flattering  to  the  vanity  of  an  overawed  bus- 
band,  she  had  managed  at  one  time  or  another  to  embroil  him 
with  almost  all  the  neighbors,  and  his  refusal  to  join  fences  had 
resulted  in  that  crooked  arrangement  known  as  a  "  devil's 
lane  "  on  three  sides  of  his  farm. 

Julia  dared  not  stay  away  from  dinner,  which  was  mis- 
erable enough.  She  did  not  venture  so  much  as  to  look  at 
August,  who  sat  opposite  her,  and  who  was  the  most  unhappy 
person  at  the  table,  because  he  did  not  know  what  all  the  unhap- 
piness  was  about.  Mr.  Anderson's  brow  foreboded  a  storm,  Mrs. 
Anderson's  face  was  full  of  an  earthquake,  Cynthy  Ann  was 
sitting  in  shadow,  and  Julia's  countenance  perplexed  him. 
Whether  she  was  angry  with  him  or  not,  he  could  not  be  sure. 


28  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Of  one  thing  he  was  certain :  she  was  suffering  a  great  deal,  and 
that  was  enough  to  make  him  exceedingly  unhappy. 

Sitting  through  his  hurried  meal  in  this  atmosphere  sur- 
charged with  domestic  electricity,  he  got  the  notion — he  could 
hardly  tell  how — that  all  this  lowering  of  the  sky  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  him.  What  had  he  done  ?  Nothing.  His 
closest  self-examination  told  him  that  he  had  done  no  wrong. 
But  his  spirits  were  depressed,  and  his  sensitive  conscience  con- 
demned him  for  some  unknown  crime  that  had  brought  about 
all  this  disturbance  of  the  elements.  The  ham  did  not  seem  very 
good,  the  cabbage  he  could  not  eat,  the  corn-dodger  choked  him, 
he  had  no  desire  to  wait  for  the  pie.  He  abridged  his  meal,  and 
went  out  to  the  bam  to  keep  company  with  his  horses  and 
his  misery  until  it  should  be  time  to  return  to  his  plow. 

Julia  sat  and  sewed,  in  that  tedious  afternoon.  She  would 
have  liked  one  more  interview  with  August  before  his  departure. 
Looking  through  the  open  hall,  she  saw  him  leave  the  barn 
and  go  toward  his  plowing.  Not  that  she  looked  up.  Hawk 
never  watched  chicken  more  closely  than  Mrs.  Anderson  watched 
poor  Jule.  But  out  of  the  corners  of  her  eyes  Julia  saw  him 
drive  his  horses  before  him  from  the  stable.  As  the  field  in 
which  he  worked  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  house  from 
where  she  sat  she  could  not  so  much  as  catch  a  glimpse  of  him 
as  he  held  his  plow  on  its  steady  course.  She  wished  she  might 
have  helped  Cynthy  Ann  in  the  kitchen,  for  then  she  could  have 
seen  him,  but  there  was  no  chance  for  such  a  transfer. 

Thus  the  tedious  afternoon  wore  away,  and  just  as  the  sun 
was  settling  down  so  that  the  shadow  of  the  elm  in  the  front- 
yard  stretched  across  the  road  into  the  cow-pasture,  the  dead 
silence  was  broken.     Julia   had   been  wishing    that    somebody 


A    FAREWELL.  29 

would  speak.  Her  mother's  sulky  speechlessness  was  worse  than 
her  scolding,  and  Julia  had  even  wished  her  to  resume  her 
storming.  But  the  silence  was  broken  by  Cynthy  Ann,  who 
came  into  the  hall  and  called,  "  Jule,  I  wish  you  would  go  to  the 
barn  and  gether  the  eggs ;   I  want  to  make  some  cake." 

Every  evening  of  her  life  Julia  gathered  the  eggs,  and  there 
was  nothing  uncommon  in  Cynthy  Ann's  making  cake,  so  that 
nothing  could  be  more  innocent  than  this  request.  Julia  sat 
opposite  the  front-door,  her  mother  sat  farther  along.  Julia 
could  see  the  face  of  Cynthy  Ann.  Her  mother  could  only  hear 
the  voice,  which  was  dry  and  commonplace  enough.  Julia 
thought  she  detected  something  peculiar  in  Cynthy's  manner. 
She  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  the  big  oak  gate-posts  with 
their  round  ball-like  heads  telegraphing  her  in  a  sly  way,  as  to 
have  suspected  any  such  craft  on  the  part  of  Cynthy  Ann,  who 
was  a  good,  pious,  simple-hearted,  Methodist  old  maid,  strict 
with  herself,  and  censorious  toward  others.  But  there  stood 
Cynthy  making  some  sort  of  gesture,  which  Julia  took  to  mean 
that  she  was  to  go  quick.  She  did  not  dare  to  show  any  eager- 
ness. She  laid  down  her  work,  and  moved  away  listlessly.  And 
evidently  she  had  been  too  slow.  For  if  August  had  been  in 
sight  when  Cynthy  Ann  called  her,  he  had  now  disappeared 
on  the  other  side  of  the  hill.  She  loitered  along,  hoping 
that  he  would  come  in  sight,  but  he  did  not,  and  then  she 
almost  smiled  to  think  how  foolish  she  had  been  in  imagining 
that  Cynthy  Ann  had  any  interest  in  her  love  affair.  Doubtless 
Cynthy  sided  with  her  mother. 

And  so  she  climbed  from  mow  to  mow  gathering  the  eggs. 
No  place  is  sweeter  than  a  mow,  no  occupation  can  be  more 
delightful  than  gathering  the  fresh  eggs — great  glorious   pearls, 


30  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

more  beautiful  than  any  that  men  dive  for,  despised  only  because 
they  are  so  common  and  so  useful !  But  Julia,  gliding  about 
noiselessly,  did  not  think  much  of  the  eggs,  did  not  give  much 
attention  to  the  hens  scratching  for  wheat  kernels  amongst  the 
straw,  nor  to  the  barn  swallows  chattering  over  the  adobe  dwell- 
ings which  they  were  building  among  the  rafters  above  her. 
She  had  often  listened  to  the  love-talk  of  these  last,  but  now 
her  heart  was  too  beavy  to  hear.  She  slid  down  to  the  edge  of 
one  of  the  mows,  and  sat  there  a  few  feet  above  the  threshing- 
floor  with  her  bonnet  in  her  hand,  looking  off  sadly  and 
vacantly.  It  was  pleasant  to  sit  here  alone  and  think,  without 
the  feeling  that  her  mother  was  penetrating  her  thoughts. 

A  little  rustle  brought  her  to  consciousness.  Her  face  was 
fiery  red  in  a  minute.  There,  in  one  corner  of  the  threshing- 
floor,  stood  August,  gazing  at  her.  He  had  come  into  the  barn 
to  find  a  single-tree  in  place  of  one  which  had  broken.  While 
he  was  looking  for  it,  Julia  had  come,  and  he  had  stood  and 
looked,  unable  to  decide  whetber  to  speak  or  not,  uncertain  how 
deeply  sbe  might  be  offended,  since  she  had  never  once  let 
her  eyes  rest  on  him  at  dinner.  And  when  she  had  come  to  the 
edge  of  the  mow  and  stopped  there  in  a  reverie,  August  had 
been  utterly  spell-bound. 

A  minute  she  blushed.  Then,  perceiving  her  opportunit}^ 
she  dropped  herself  to  the  floor  and  walked  up  to  August. 

"August,  you  are  to  be  turned  off  to-morrow  night." 

"What  have  I  done?    Anything  wrong?" 

"  No." 

"  Why  do  they  send  me  away  ? " 

"  Because — because —  "     Julia  stopped. 

But  silence  is  often  better  than  speech.     A  sudden  intelligence 


A   FAEEWELL.  33 

came  into  the  blue  eyes  of  August.  "  They  turn  me  off  because 
I  love  Jule,  Anderson." 

Julia  blushed  just  a  little. 

"  I  will  love  her  all  the  same  when  I  am  gone.  I  will  always 
love  her." 

Julia  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  this  passionate  speech,  so 
she  contented  herself  with  looking  a  little  grateful  and  very 
foolish. 

"But  I  am  only  a  poor  boy,  and  a  Dutchman  at  that" — he 
said  this  bitterly — "  but  if  you  will  wait,  Jule,  I  will  show  them 
I  am  of  some  account.  Not  good  enough  for  you,  but  good 
enough  for  them.     You  will " 

"I  will  wait— forever — for  you,  Gus."  Her  head  was  down, 
and  her  voice  could  hardly  be  heard.  "  Good-by."  She  stretched 
out  her  hand,  and  he  took  it  trembling. 

"  Wait  a  minute."  He  dropped  the  hand,  and  taking  a  pencil 
wrote  on  a  beam : 

"March  18th,  1843." 

"  There,  that's  to  remember  the  Dutchman  by." 

"Don't  call  yourself  a  Dutchman,  August.  One  day  in 
school,  when  I  was  sitting  opposite  to  you,  I  learned  this  defi- 
nition, '  August :  grand,  magnificent,'  and  I  looked  at  you  and 
said,  Yes,  that  he  is.  August  is  grand  and  magnificent,  and 
that's  what  you  are.     You're  just  grand  !" 

I  do  not  think  he  was  to  blame.  I  am  sure  he  was  not  re- 
sponsible. It  was  done  so  quickly.  He  kissed  her  forehead 
and  then  her  lips,  and  said  good-by  and  was  gone.  And  she, 
with  her  apron  full  of  eggs  and  her  cheeks  very  red — it  makes 
one  warm  to  climb — went  back  to  the  house,  resolved  in  some 
way  to  thank  Cynthy  Ann  for  sending  her ;  but  Cynthy  Ann's, 


34  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

face  was  so  serious  and  austere  in  its  look  that  Julia  concluded 
she  must  have  been  mistaken,  Cynthy  Ann  couldn't  have  known 
that  August  was  in  the  barn.     For  all  she  said  was : 

"  You  got  a  right  smart  lot  of  eggs,  didn't  you  ?     The  hens 
is  beginnin'  to  lay  more  peart  since  the  warm  spell  sot  in." 


A    COUNTER-IRRITANT. 


35 


CHAPTER    IV. 


A    COUNTER-IRRITANT. 


OT   you    kits    doornt    off    vor?     Hey?" 
Gottlieb  Wehle   always  spoke    English,  or 
what  he  called    English,  when   he    was   angry. 
"  Vot  for  ?    Hey  ?  " 

All  the  way  home  from  Anderson's  on  that 
Saturday  night,  August  had  been,  in  imagination,  listening  to 
the  rough  voice  of  his  honest  father  asking  this  question,  and 
he  had  been  trying  to  find  a  satisfactory  answer  to  it.  He  might 
say  that  Mr.  Anderson  did  not  want  to  keep  a  hand  any  longer. 
But  that  would  not  be  true.  And  a  young  man  with  August's 
clear  blue  eyes  was  not  likely  to  lie. 

"Vot  vor  ton't  you  not  shpeak?  Can't  you  virshta  blain 
Eenglish  ven  you  hears  it?  Hey?  You  a'n't  no  teef  vot  shteels 
I  shposes,  unt  you  ton't  kit  no  troonks  mit  vishky  ?,  Vot  you 
too  tat  you  pe  shamt  of?  Pin  lazin'  rount?  Kon  you  nicht 
Eenglish  shprachen  ?     Oot  mit  id  do  vonst ! " 

"  I  did  not  do  anything  to  be  ashamed  of,"  said  August.  And 
yet  he  looked  ashamed. 


36  THK    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

"  You  tidn't  pe  no  shamt,  hey  ?  You  tidn't !  Vot  vor  you 
loogs  so  leig  a  teef  in  der  bentenshry  ?  Vot  for  you  sprachen 
not  mit  me  ven  ich  sprachs  der  blainest  zort  ov  Eenglish  mit 
you?  You  kooms  sneaggin  heim  Zaturtay  nocht  leig  a  tog 
vots  kot  kigt,  unt's  got  his  dail  dween  his  leks ;  and  ven  I 
aks  you  in  blain  Eenglish  vot's  der  madder,  you  loogs  zheepish 
leig,  und  says  you  a'n't  tun  nodin.     I  zay  you  tun  sompin.     If 


GOTTLIEB. 

you  a'n't  tun  nodin  den,  vy  don't  you  dell  me  vot  it  is  dat  you 
has  tun?     Hey?" 

All  this  time  August  found  that  it  was  getting  harder  and 
harder  to  tell  his  father  the  real  state  of  the  case.  But  the  old 
man,  seeing  that  he  prevailed  nothing,  took  a  cajoling  tone. 

"  Koom,  August,  mine  knabe,  ton't  shtand  dare  leig  a  vool, 
Vot  tit  Anterson  zay  ven  he  shent  you  avay  ? " 

"  He  said  that  I'd  been  seen  a-talking  to  his  daughter,  Jule 
Anderson." 


A    COUNTER-IRRITANT.  37 

"  Veil,  you  nebber  said  no  hoorm  doo  Shule,  tid  you  ?  If  I 
dought  you  said  vot  you  zhoodn't  zay  doo  Shule,  I  vood  shust 
drash  you  on  der  shpot !     Tid  you  gwarl  mit   Shule,  already  ? " 

"Quarrel  with  Jule!  She's  the  last  person  in  the  world  I'd 
think  of   quarreling  witb.     She's  as  good  as " 

"  Oh  !  you  pe  in  lieb  mit  Shule !  You  vool,  you !  Is  dat  all 
dat  I  raise  you  vor?  I  dells  you,  unt  dells  you,  unt  dells  you 
to  sprach  nodin  put  Deutsche,  unt  to  marry  a  kood  Deutsche 
vrau  vot  kood  sprach  mit  you,  unt  now  you  koes  right 
shtraight  off  unt  kits  knee-teep  in  lieb  mit  a  vool  of  a  Yangee 
kirl!     You  doo  ant  pe  cloornt  off!" 

August's  countenance  brightened.  All  the  way  home  he  had 
felt  that  it  was  somehow  an  unpardonable  sin  to  be  a  Dutch- 
man. Anderson  had  spoken  hardly  to  him  in  dismissing  him, 
and  now  it  was  a  great  comfort  to  find  that  his  father  returned 
the  contempt  of  the  Yankees  at  its  full  value.  All  the  conceit 
was  not  on  the  side  of  the  Yankees.  It  was  at  least  an  open 
question  which  was  the  most  disgraced,  he  or  Julia,  by  their  lit- 
tle love  affair. 

But  more  comforting  still  was  the  quiet  look  of  hjs  sweet- 
faced  mother,  who,  moving  about  among  her  throng  of  children 
like  a  hen  with  more  chickens  than  she  can  hover,*  never 
forgot  to  be  patient  and  affectionate.  If  there  had  been  a  look 
of  reproach  on  the  face  of  the  mother,  it  would  have  been  the 
hardest  trial  of  all.  But  there  was  that  in  her  eyes — the  dear 
Moravian  mother — that  gave  courage  to  August.  The  mother 
was  an  outside  conscience,  and  now  as  Gottlieb,  who  had  lapsed 

•  Not  until  my  attention  was  called  to  this  word  in  the  proof  did  I  know 
that  in  this  sense  it  is  a  provincialism.  It  is  so  used,  at  least  in  half  the  coun- 
try, and  yet  neither  of  our  American  dictionaries  has  it. 


ob  THE    END    OF    THE    "WORLD. 

into  German  for  his  wife's  benefit,  rattled  on  his  denunciation  of 
this  Canaanitish  Yankee,  with  whom  his  son  was  in  love,  the 
son  looked  every  now  and  then  into  the  eyes,  the  still  German 
eyes  of  the  mother,  and  rejoiced  that  he  saw  there  no  reflection 
of  his  father's  rebuke.  The  older  Wehle  presently  resumed  his 
English,  such  as  it  was,  as  better  adapted  to  scolding.  Whether 
he  thought  to  make  his  children  love  German  by  abusing  them 
in  English,  I  do  not  know,  but  it  was  his  habit. 

"I  dells  you  tese  Yangees  is  Yangees.  Dere  neber  voz 
put  shust  von  cood  vor  zompin.  Antrew  Antershon  is  von. 
He  shtaid  mit  us  ven  ve  vos  all  zick,  unt  he  is  zhust  so  cood  as 
if  he  was  porn  in  Deutschland.  Put  all  de  rest  is  Yangees. 
Marry  a  Deutsche  vrau  vot's  kot  cood  sense  to  ede  kraut  unt 
shleep  unter  vedder  peds  ven  it's  kalt.  Put  shust  led  de  Yan- 
gees pe  Yangees." 

Seeing  August  put  on  his  hat  and  go  to  the  door,  he  called 
out  testily : 

"  Vare  you  koes,  already  ? " 

"  Over  to  the  castle." 

"  Veil,  das  is  koot.  Ko  doo  de  gassel.  Antrew  vill  dell  you 
vat  sorts  de  Yangee  kirls  pe ! " 


AT   THE    CASTLK.  39 


CHAPTER    V. 


AT     THE      CASTLE 


•  Y  the  time  August  reached  Andrew  Anderson's 
castle  it  was  dark.  The  castle  was  built  in 
a  hollow,  looking  out  toward  the  Ohio  River,  a 
river  that  has  this  peculiarity,  that  it  is  all  beau- 
tiful, from  Pittsburgh  to  Cairo.  Through  the  trees, 
on  which  the  buds  were  just  bursting,  August  looked  out  on  the 
golden  roadway  made  by  the  moonbeams  on  the  river.  And 
into  the  tuumlt  of  his  feelings  there  came  the  sweet  benediction 
of  Nature.     And  what  is  Nature  but  the  voice  of  God  ? 

Anderson's  castle  was  a  large  log  building  of  strange  con- 
struction. Everything  about  it  had  been  built  by  the  hands  of 
Andrew,  at  once  its  lord  and  its  architect.  Evidently  a  whim- 
sical fancy  had  pleased  itself  in  the  construction.  It  was  an 
attempt  to  realize  something  of  medieval  form  in  logs.  There 
were  buttresses  and  antique  windows,  and  by  an  ingenious  trans- 
formation the  chimney,  usually  such  a  disfigurement  to  a  log- 
house,  was  made  to  look  like  a  round  donjon  keep.  But  it  was 
strangely  composite,  and  I  am  afraid  Mr.  Ruskin  would  have 
considered  it  somewhat  confused;    for  while  it  looked   like  a 


40  THE    END    OP    THE    WORLD. 

rude  castle  to  those  who  approached  it  from  the  hills,  it  looked 
like  something  very  different  to  those  who  approached  the 
front,  for  upon  that  side  was  a  portico  with  massive  Doric 
columns,  which  were  nothing  more  nor  less  than  maple  logs. 
Andrew  maintained  that  the  natural  form  of  the  trunk  of  a  tree 
was  the  ideal  and  perfect  form  of  a  pillar. 

To  this  picturesque  structure,  half  castle,  half  cabin,  with 
hints  of  church  and  temple,  came  August  Wehle  on  Saturday 
evening.  He  did  not  go  round  to  the  portico  and  knock  at  the 
front-door  as  a  stranger  would  have  done,  but  in  behind  the 
donjon  chimney  he  pulled  an  alarm-cord.  Immediately  the 
head  of  Andrew  Anderson  was  thrust  out  of  a  Gothic  hole — 
you  could  not  call  it  a  window.  His  uncut  hair,  rather  darker 
than  auburn,  fell  down  to  his  waist,  and  his  shaggy  red  beard 
lay  upon  his  bosom.  Instead  of  a  coat  he  wore  that  unique  gar- 
ment of  linsey-woolsey  known  in  the  West  as  wa'mus  (warm 
us '(),  a  sort  of  over-shirt.  He  was  forty-five,  but  there  were 
streaks  of  gray  in  his  hair  and  beard,  and  he  looked  older  by 
ten  years. 

"  What  ho,  good  friend  ?  Is  that  you  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Come 
up,  and  right  welcome  ! "  For  his  language  was  as  archaic  and 
perhaps  as  incongruous  as  his  architecture.  And  then  throwing 
out  of  the  window  a  rope-ladder,  he  called  out  again,  "  Ascend ! 
ascend  !  my  brave  young  friend  ! " 

And  young  Wehle  climbed  up  the  ladder  into  the  large  upper 
room.  For  it  was  one  peculiarity  of  the  castle  that  the  upper 
part  had  no  visible  communication  with  the  lower.  Except 
August,  and  now  and  then  a  literary  stranger,  no  one  but  the 
owner  was  ever  admitted  to  the  upper  story  of  the  house,  and 
the  neighbors,  who  always  had  access  to  the  lower  rooms,  re- 


41  THE  CASTLR. 


AT   THE    CASTLK.  43 

garded  the  upper  part  of  the  castle  with  mysterious  awe. 
August  was  often  plied  with  questions  about  it,  but  he  always 
answered  simply  that  he  didn't  think  Mr.  Anderson  would  like 
to  have  it  talked  about.  For  the  owner  there  must  have  been 
some  inside  mode  of  access  to  the  second  story,  but  he  did 
not  choose  to  let  even  August  know  of  any  other  way  than 
that  by  the  rope-ladder,  and  the  few  strangers  who  came  to  see 
his  books  were  taken  in  by  the  same  drawbridge. 

The  room  was  filled  with  books  arranged  after  whimsical 
associations.  One  set  of  cases,  for  instance,  was  called  the 
Academy,  and  into  these  he  only  admitted  the  masters,  follow- 
ing the  guidance  of  his  own  eccentric  judgment  quite  as  much 
as  he  followed  traditional  estimate.  Homer,  Virgil,  Dante,  and 
Milton  of  course  had  undisputed  possession  of  the  department 
devoted  to  the  "  Kings  of  Epic,"  as  he  styled  them.  Sophocles, 
Calderon,  Corneille,  and  Shakespeare  were  all  that  he  admitted 
to  his  list  of  "  Kings  of  Tragedy."  Lope  he  rejected  on  literary 
grounds,  and  Goethe  because  he  thought  his  moral  tendency 
bad.  He  rejected  Rabelais  from  his  chief  humorists,  but  ac- 
cepted Cervantes,  Le  Sage,  Molitire,  Swift,  Hood,  and  the  then 
fresh  Pickwick  of  Boz.  To  these  he  added  the  Georgia  Scenes 
of  Mr.  Longstreet,  insisting  that  they  were  quite  equal  to  Don 
Quixote.  I  can  only  stop  to  mention  one  other  department  in 
his  Academy.  One  case  was  devoted  to  the  "  Best  Stories,"  and 
an  admirable  set  they  were!  I  wish  that  anything  of  mine 
were  worthy  to  go  into  such  company.  His  purity  of  feeling, 
almost  ascetic,  led  him  to  reject  Boccaccio,  but  he  admitted 
Chaucer  and  some  of  Balzac's,  and  Smollett,  Goldsmith,  and 
De  Foe,  and  Walter  Scott's  best,  Irving's  Rip  Van  "Winkle,  Ber- 
nardin    St.  Pierre's  "Paul  and  Virginia,"  and  "Three  Months 


44  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

under  the  Snow,"  and  Charles  Lamb's  generally  overlooked 
"  Rosamund  Gray."  There  were  cases  for  "  Socrates  and  his 
Friends,"  and  for  other  classes.  He  had  amused  himself  for 
years  in  deciding  what  books  should  be  "  crowned,"  as  he  called 
it,  and  what  not.  And  then  he  had  another  case,  called  "  The 
Inferno."  I  wish  there  was  space  to  give  a  list  of  this  depart- 
ment. Some  were  damned  for  dullness  and  some  for  coarse- 
ness. Miss  Edgeworth's  Moral  Tales,  Darwin's  Botanic  Garden, 
Rollin's  Ancient  History,  and  a  hideously  illustrated  copy  of 
the  Book  of  Martyrs  were  in  the  first-class,  Don  Juan  and  some 
French  novels  in  the  second.  Tupper,  Swinburne,  and  Walt 
Whitman  he  did  not  know. 

In  the  corner  next  the  donjon  chimney  was  a  little  room 
with  a  small  fireplace.  Thus  the  hermit  economized  wood,  for 
wood  meant  time,  and  time  meant  communion  with  his  books. 
All  of  his  domestic  arrangements  were  carried  on  after  this  frugal 
fashion.  In  the  little  room  was  a  writing-desk,  covered  with 
manuscripts  and  commonplace  books. 

"  Well,  my  young  friend,  you're  thrice  welcome,"  said  Andrew, 
who  never  dropped  his  book  language.  "  What  will  you  have  ? 
Will  you  resurr.e  your  apprenticeship  under  Goethe,  or  shall  wc 
canter  to  Canterbury  with  Chaucer  ?  Grand  old  Dan  Chaucer ! 
Or,  shall  we  study  magical  philosophy  with  Roger  Bacon — the 
Friar,  the  Admirable  Doctor  ?  or  read  good  Sir  Thomas  More  ? 
What  would  Sir  Thomas  have  said  if  he  could  have  thought  that 
lie  would  be  admired  by  two  such  people  as  you  and  I,  in  the 
woods  of  America,  in  the  nineteenth  century  ?  But  you  do  not 
want  books !  Ah !  my  brave  friend,  you  are  not  well.  Come 
into  my  cell  and  let  us  talk.     What  grieves  you?" 

And  Andrew  took  him  by  the  hand  with  the  courtesy  of  a 


AT   THE    CASTLE. 


45 


knight,  with  the  tenderness  of  a  woman,  and  with  the  air  of  an 
astrologer,  and  led  him  into  the  apartment  of  a  monk. 

"  See  !  "  he  said,  "  I  have  made  a  new  chair.    It  is  the  highr 


THE     SKDHJITM     AT     THE     CASTLE. 

est  evidence  of  my  love  for  my  Teutonic  friend.  Ton  have 
now  a  right  to  this  castle.  You  shall  be  perpetually  welcome. 
I  said  to  myself,  German  scholarship  shall    sit    there,  and    the 


46  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

Backwoods  Philosopher  will  sit  here.  So  sit  down  on  my 
sedilium,  and  let  us  hear  how  this  uncivil  and  inconstant  world 
treats  you.  It  can  not  deal  worse  with  you  than  it  has  with  me. 
But  I  have  had  my  revenge  on  it !  I  have  been  revenged  !  I 
have  done  as  I  pleased,  and  defied  the  world  and  all  its  hollow 
conventionalities."  These  last  words  were  spoken  in  a  tone  of 
misanthropic  bitterness  common  to  Andrew.  His  love  for 
August  was  the  more  intense  that  it  stood  upon  a  background 
of  general  dislike,  if  not  for  the  world,  at  least  for  that  portion 
of  it  which  most  immediately  surrounded  him. 

August  took  the  chair,  ingeniously  woven  and  built  of  lye 
straw  and  hickory  splints.  He  knew  that  all  this  formality  and 
apparent  pedantry  was  superficial.  He  and  Andrew  were  bosom 
friends,  and  as  he  had  often  opened  his  heart  to  the  master  of 
the  castle  before,  so  now  he  had  no  difficulty  in  telling  him  his 
troubles,  scarcely  heeding  the  appropriate  quotations  which  An- 
drew made  from  time  to  time  by  way  of  embellishment. 


THE    BACKWOODS    1'IIILOSOPIIEK.  47 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE    BACKWOODS    PHILOSOPHER. 

~NE  reason  for  Andrew's  love  of  August  Wehle 
was  that  he  was  a  German.  Far  from  sharing 
in  the  prejudices  of  his  neighbors  against  foreign- 
ers, Andrew  had  so  thorough  a  contempt  for  his 
neighbors,  that  he  liked  anybody  who  did  not 
belong  to  his  own  people.  If  a  Turk  had  emigrated  to  Clark 
township,  Andrew  would  have  fallen  in  love  with  him,  and 
built  a  divan  for  his  special  accommodation.  But  he  loved 
August  also  for  the  sake  of  his  gentle  temper  and  his  genuine 
love  for  books.  And  only  August  or  August's  mother,  upon 
whom  Andrew  sometimes  called,  could  exorcise  his  demon  of 
misanthropy,  which  he  had  nursed  so  long  that  it  was  now  hard 
to  dismiss  it. 

Andrew  Anderson  belonged  to  a  class  noticed,  I  doubt  not, 
by  every  acute  observer  of  provincial  life  in  this  country.  In 
backwoods  and  out-of-the-way  communities  literary  culture  pro- 
duces marked  eccentricities  in  the  life.  Your  bookish  man  at 
the  West  has   never  learned  to  mark  the  distinction  between 


48  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

the  world  of  ideas  and  the  world  of  practical  life.  Instead  of 
writing  poems  or  romances,  he  falls  to  living  them,  or  at 
least  trying  to.  Add  a  disappointment  in  love,  and  you  will 
surely  throw  him  into  the  class  of  which  Anderson  was  the 
representative.  For  the  education  one  gets  from  books  is  sadly 
one-sided,  unless  it  be  balanced  by  a  knowledge  of  the  world. 

Andrew  Anderson  had  always  been  regarded  as  an  oddity. 
A  man  with  a  good  share  of  ideality  and  literary  taste,  placed 
against  the  dull  background  of  the  society  of  a  Western  neigh- 
borhood in  the  former  half  of  the  century,  would  necessarily 
appear  odd.  Had  he  drifted  into  communities  of  more  cul- 
ture, his  eccentricity,  begotten  of  a  sense  of  superiority  to  his 
surroundings,  would  have  worn  away.  Had  he  been  happily 
married,  his  oddities  would  have  been  softened ;  but  neither  of 
these  things  happened.  He  told  August  a  very  different  his- 
tory. For  the  confidence  of  his  "  Teutonic  friend "  had  awak- 
ened in  the  solitary  man  a  desire  to  uncover  that  story  which 
he  had  kept  under  lock  and  key  for  so  many  years. 

"  Ah  !  my  friend,"  said  he  with  excitement,  "  don't  trust  the 
faith  of  a  woman."  And  then  rising  from  his  seat  he  said, 
"  The  Backwoods  Philosopher  warns  you.  I  pray  you  give  good 
heed.  I  do  not  know  Julia.  She  is  my  niece.  It  ill  becomes 
me  to  doubt  her  sincerity.  But  I  know  whose  daughter  she  is. 
I  pray  you  give  good  heed,  my  Teutonic  friend.  I  know  whose 
daughter  she  is! 

"  I  do  not  talk  much.  But  you  have  arrived  at  a  critical 
point — a  point  of  turning.  Out  of  his  own  life,  out  of  his  own 
sorrow,  the  Backwoods  Philosopher  warns  you.  I  am  at  peace 
now.  But  look  at  me.  Do  you  not  see  the  marks  of  the 
ravages   of  a  great    storm  ?     A  sort  of  a  qualified  happiness  I 


THE    BACKWOODS    PHILOSOPHER.  51 

have  in  philosophy.  But  what  I  might  have  been  if  the  storm 
had  not  torn  me  to  pieces  in  my  youth — what  I  might  have 
been,  that  I  am  not.  I  pray  you  never  trust  in  a  woman's  keep- 
ing the  happiness  of  your  life  ! " 

Here  Andrew  slipped  his  arm  through  Wehle's,  and  began 
to  promenade  with  him  in  the  large  apartment  up  and  down  an 
alley,  dimly  lighted  by  a  candle,  between  solid  phalanxes  of 
books. 

"  I  pray  you  give  good  heed,"  he  said,  resuming.  "  I  was 
always  eccentric.  People  thought  I  was  either  a  genius  or  fool. 
Perhaps  I  was  much  of  both.  But  this  is  a  digression.  I  did 
not  pay  any  attention  to  women.  I  shunned  them.  I  said  that 
to  be  a  great  author  and  a  philosophical  thinker,  one  must  not 
be  a  man  of  society.  I  never  went  to  a  wood-chopping,  to  an 
apple-peeling,  to  a  corn-shucking,  to  a  barn-raising,  nor  indeed  to 
any  of  our  rustic  feasts.  I  suppose  this  piqued  the  vanity  of  the 
girls,  and  they  set  themselves  to  catch  me.  I  suppose  they 
thought  that  I  would  be  a  trophy  worth  boasting.  I  have 
noticed  that  hunters  estimate  game  according  to  the  difficulty  of 
getting  it.     But  this  is  a  digression.     Let  us  return. 

"  There  came  among  us,  at  that  time,  Abigail  Norman.  She 
was  pretty.  I  swear  by  all  the  sacred  cats  of  Egypt,  that  she 
was  beautiful.  She  was  industrious.  The  best  housekeeper  in 
the  state !  She  was  high-strung.  I  liked  her  all  the  more  for 
that.  You  see  a  man  of  imagination  is  apt  to  fall  in  love  with 
a  tragedy  queen.     But  this  is  a  digression.     Let  us  return. 

"  She  spread  her  toils  in  my  path.  While  I  was  wandering 
through  the  woods  writing  poetry  to  birds  and  squirrels,  Abby 
Norman  was  ambitious  enough  to  hope  to  make  me  her  slave, 
and  she  did.     She  read  books  that  she  thought    I  liked.     She 


52  THE    END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

planned  in  various  ways  to  seem  to  like  what  I  liked,  and  yet 
she  had  sense  enough  to  differ  a  little  from  me,  and  so  make 
herself  the  more  interesting.  I  think  a  man  of  real  intellect 
never  likes  to  have  a  man  or  woman  agree  with  him  entirely. 
But  let  us  return. 

"  I  loved  Abigail  desperately.  No,  I  did  not  love  Abigail 
Norman  at  all.  I  did  not  love  her  as  she  was,  but  I  loved  her 
as  she  seemed  to  my  imagination  to  be.  I  think  most  lovers 
love  an  ideal  that  hovers  in  the  air  a  little  above  the  real  reci- 
pient of  their  love.  And  I  think  we  men  of  genius  and  imagin- 
ation are  apt  to  love  something  very  different  from  the  real 
person,  which  is  unfortunate. 

"  But  I  am  digressing  again.  To  return  :  I  wrote  poetry  to 
Abby.  I  courted  her.  I  cut  off  my  long  hair  for  a  woman,  like 
Samson.  I  tried  to  dress  more  decently,  and  made  myself 
ridiculous  no  doubt,  for  a  man  can  not  dress  well  unless  he 
has  a  talent  for  it.    And  I  never  had  a  genius  for  beau-knots. 

"  But  pardon  the  digression.  Let  us  return.  I  was  to  have 
married  her.  The  day  was  set.  Then  I  found  accidentally  that 
she  was  engaged  to  my  brother  Samuel,  a  young  man  with  better 
manners  than  mind.  She  made  him  believe  that  she  was  only 
making  a  butt  of  me.  But  I  think  she  really  loved  me  more 
than  she  knew.  When  I  had  discovered  her  treachery,  I  shipped 
on  the  first  flat-boat.  I  came  near  committing  suicide,  and  should 
have  jumped  into  the  river  one  night,  only  that  I  thought  it 
might  flatter  her  vanity.  I  came  back  here  and  ignored  her.  f 
She  broke  with  Samuel  and  tried  to  regain  my  affections.  I 
scorned  her.  I  trod  on  her  heart !  I  stamped  her  pride  into 
the  dust !  I  was  cruel.  I  was  contemptuous.  I  was  well-nigh 
insane.    Then  she  went  back  to  Samuel,  and  made  him  marry 


THE   BACKWOODS   PHILOSOPHER.  53 

her.  Then  she  forced  my  imbecile  old  father,  on  his  death-bed, 
to  will  all  the  property  to  Samuel,  except  this  piece  of  rough 
hill -land  and  one  thousand  dollars.  But  here  I  built  this 
castle.  My  thousand  dollars  I  put  in  books.  I  learned  how 
to  weave  the  coverlets  of  which  our  country  people  are  so  fond, 
and  by  this  means,  and  by  selling  wood  to  the  steamboats,  I  have 
made  a  living  and  bought  my  library  without  having  to  work 
half  of  my  time.  I  was  determined  never  to  leave.  I  swore 
by  all  the  arms  of  Vishnu  she  should  never  say  that  she  had 
driven  me  away.  I1  don't  know  anything  about  Julia.  But  I 
know  whose  daughter  she  is.  My  young  friend,  beware !  I 
pray  you  take  good  heed !  The  Backwoods  Philosopher  warns 
you ! " 


54  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

WITHIN    AND    WITHOUT. 

*F  the  gentleman  is  not  born  in  a  man,  it  can  not 
be  bred  in  him.  If  it  is  bora  in  him,  it  can  not  be 
bred  out  of  him.  August  Wehle  had  inherited  from 
his  mother  the  instinct  of  true  gentlemanliness.  And 
now,  when  Andrew  relapsed  into  silence  and  abstrac- 
tion, he  did  not  attempt  to  rouse  him,  but  bidding  him  good- 
night, with  his  own  hands  threw  the  rope-ladder  out  the  window 
and  started  up  the  hollow  toward  home.  The  air  was  sultry 
and  oppressive,  the  moon  had  been  engulfed,  and  the  first  thun- 
der-cloud of  the  spring  was  pushing  itself  up  toward  the  zenith, 
while  the  boughs  of  the  trees  were  quivering  with  a  premon- 
itory shudder.  But  August  did  not  hasten.  The  real  storm  was 
within.  Andrew's  story  had  raised  doubts.  "When  he  went 
down  the  ravine  the  love  of  Julia  Anderson  shone  upon  his 
heart  as  benignly  as  the  moon  upon  the  waters.  Now  the  light 
was  gone,  and  the  black  cloud  of  a  doubt  had  shut  out  his 
peace.  Jule  Anderson's  father  was  rich.  He  had  not  thought  of 
it  before !    But  now  he  remembered  how  much  woodland  he 


WITHIN   AND    WITHOUT.  55 

owned  and  how  he  had  two  large  farms.  Jule  Anderson 
would  not  marry  a  poor  boy.  And  a  Dutchman  !  She  was  not 
sincere.  She  was  trifling  with  him  and  teasing  her  parents.  Or, 
if  she  were  sincere  now,  she  would  not  be  faithful  to  him 
against  every  tempting  offer.  And  he  would  have  to  drive  on 
the  rocks,  too,  as  Andrew  had.  At  any  rate,  he  would  not 
marry  her  until  he  stood   upon  some  sort  of  equality  with  her. 

The  wind  was  swaying  him  about  in  its  fitful  gusts,  and  he 
rather  liked  it.  In  his  anguish  of  spirit  it  was  a  pleasure  to 
contend  with  the  storm.  The  wind,  the  lightning,  the  sudden 
sharp  claps  of  thunder  were  on  his  own  key.  He  felt  in  the 
temper  of  old  Lear.  The  winds  might  blow  and  crack  their 
cheeks. 

But  it  was  not  alone  the  suggestions  of  Andrew  that  aroused 
his  suspicions.  He  now  recalled  a  strange  statement  that 
Samuel  Anderson  made  in  discharging  him.  "  You  said  what 
you  had  no  right  to  say  about  my  wife,  in  talking  to  Julia." 
What  had  he  said  ?  Only  that  some  woman  had  not  treated 
Andrew  "just  right."  Who  the  woman  might  be  he  had  not 
known  until  his  present  interview  with  Andrew.  Had  Julia 
been  making  mischief  herself  by  repeating  his  words  and  giving 
them  a  direction  he  had  not  intended  ?  He  could  not  have 
dreamed  of  her  acting  such  a  part  but  for  the  strange  influence 
of  Andrew's  strange  story.  And  so  he  staggered  on,  wet  to  the 
skin,  defying  in  his  heart  the  lightning  and  the  wind,  until  he 
came  to  the  cabin  of  his  father.  Climbing  the  fence,  for  there 
was  no  gate,  he  pulled  the  latch-string  and  entered.  They  were 
all  asleep;  the  hard-working  family  went  to  bed  early.  But 
chubby-faced  Wilhelmina,  the  favorite  sister,  had  set  up  to  wait 
for  August,  and  he  now  found  her  fast  asleep  in  the  chair. 


56  THE    END    OF    THE    WOULD. 

"  Wilhelmina !  wake  up!"  he  said. 

"  O  August ! "  she  said,  opening  the  corner  of  one  eye  and 
yawning,  "  I  wasn't  asleep.  I  only — ah — shut  my  eyes  a  minute. 
How  wet  you  are  !  Did  you  go  to  see  the  pretty  girl  up  at  Mr. 
Anderson's  ?  " 

"No,"  said  August. 

"  O  August !  she  is  pretty,  and  she  is  good  and  sweet,"  and 
Wilhelmina  took  his  wet  cheeks  between  her  chubby  hands 
and  gave  him  a  sleepy  kiss,  and  then  crept  off  to  bed. 

And,  somehow,  the  faith  of  the  child  Wilhelmina  counter- 
acted the  skepticism  of  the  man  Andrew,  and  August  felt  the 
storm  subsiding. 

When  he  looked  out  of  the  window  of  the  loft  in  which  he 
slept  the  shower  had  ceased  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come,  the 
thunder  had  retreated  behind  the  hills,  the  clouds  were  already 
breaking,  and  the  white  face  of  the  moon  was  peering  through 
the  ragged  rifts. 


FIGGERS    WON'T   LIE. 


57 


CHAPTER    VIII. 


FIGGERS      WON'T      LIE 


8^a£  IGGERS  won't  lie,"  said  Elder  Hankins,  the 
Millerite  preacher.  "I  say  Aggers  won't  lie. 
"When  a  Methodis'  talks  about  fallin'  from  grace 
he  has  to  argy  the  pint.  And  argyments  can't 
be  depended  'pon.  And  when  a  Prisbyterian 
talks  about  parseverance  he  haint  got  the  absolute  sartainty  on 
his  side.  But  figgers  won't  lie  noways,  and  it's  figgers  that 
shows  this  yer  to  be  the  last  yer  of  the  world,  and  that  the 
final  eend  of  all  things  is  approachin'.  I  don't  ask  you  to 
listen  to  no  'mpressions  of  me  own,  to  no  reasonin'  of  nobody ; 
all  I  ask  is  that  you  should  listen  to  the  voice  of  the  man  in 
the  linen-coat  what  spoke  to  Dan' el,  and  then  listen  to  the  voice 
of  the  'rithmetic,  and  to  a  sum  in  simple  addition,  the  simplest 
sort  of  addition." 

All  the  Millerite  preachers  of  that  day  were  not  quite  so  illit- 
erate as  Elder  Hankins,  and  it  is  but  fair  to  say  that  the  Advent- 
ists  of  to-day  are  a  very  respectable  denomination,  doing  a  work 
which  deserves  more  recognition  from  others  than   it  receives. 


58  THE    END    OF    THE   WOELD. 

And  for  the  delusion  which  expects  the  world  to  come  to  an  end 
immediately,  the  Adventist  leaders  are  not  responsible  in  the 
first  place.  From  Gnosticism  to  Mormonism,  every  religious 
delusion  has  grown  from  some  fundamental  error  in  the  previ- 
ous religious  teaching  of  the  people.  By  the  narrowly  verbal 
method  of  reading  the  Scripture,  so  much  in  vogue  in  the  polem- 
ical discussions  of  the  past  generation,  and  still  so  fervently 
adhered  to  by  many  people,  the  ground  was  prepared  for  Miller- 
ism.  And  to-day  in  many  regions  the  soil  is  made  fallow  for 
the  next  fanaticism.  It  is  only  a  question  of  who  shall  first  sow 
and  reap.  To  people  educated  as  those  who  gathered  in  Sugar 
Grove  scbool-house  had  been  to  destroy  the  spirit  of  the  Scrip- 
ture by  distorting  the  letter  in  proving  their  own  sect  right, 
nothing  could  be  so  overwhelming  as  Elder  Hankins's  "  figgers." 

For  he  had  clearly  studied  figgers  to  the  neglect  of  the  other 
branches  of  a  liberal  education.  His  demonstration  was  printed 
on  a  large  chart.  He  began  with  the  seventy  weeks  of  Daniel, 
he  added  in  the  "time  and  times  and  a  half,"  and  what  Daniel 
declared  that  he  "  understood  not  when  he  heard,"  was  plain  sail- 
ing to  the  enlightened  and  mathematical  mind  of  Elder  Han- 
kins.  When  he  came  to  the  thousand  two  hundred  and  ninety 
days,  he  waxed  more  exultant  than  Kepler  in  his  supreme  mo- 
ment, and  on  the  thousand  three  hundred  and  five  and  thirty 
days  he  did  what  Jonas  Harrison  called  "  the  blamedest  tallest 
cipher-in'  he'd  ever  seed  in  all  his  born  days." 

Jonas  was  the  new  hired  man,  who  had  stepped  into  the 
shoes  of  August  at  Samuel  Anderson's.  He  sat  by  August  and 
kept  up  a  running  commentary,  in  a  loud  whisper,  on  the  sermon, 
"My  feller-citizen,"  said  Jonas,  squeezing  August's  arm  at  a 
climax  of  the  elder's  discourse,  "  My  feller-citizen,  looky  thar, 


PIGGEKS    "WON'T   LIE.  59 

won't  you?  He'll  cipher  the  world  into  nothin'  in  no  time. 
He's  like  the  feller  that  tried  to  find  out  the  valoo  of  a  fat  shoat 
when  wood  was  two  dollars  a  cord.  '  Ef  I  can't  do  it  by  sub- 
straction  I'll  do  it  by  long-division,'  says  he.  And  ef  this  'rith- 
metic  preacher  can't  make  a  finishment  of  this  sub?«nary  speer  by 
addition,  he'll  do  it  by  multiplyin'.  They's  only  one  answer  in 
his  book.  Gin  him  any  sum  you  please,  and  it  all  comes 
out  1843!" 

Now  in  all  the  region  round  about  Sugar  Grove  school-house 
there  was  a  great  dearth  of  sensation.  The  people  liked  the 
prospect  of  the  end  of  the  world  because  it  would  be  a  spectacle, 
something  to  relieve  the  fearful  monotony  of  their  lives.  Fune- 
rals and  weddings  were  commonplace,  and  nothing  could  have 
been  so  interesting  to  them  as  the  coming  of  the  end  of  the 
world,  as  described  by  Elder  Hankins,  unless  it  had  been  a  first- 
class  circus  (with  two  camels  and  a  cage  of  monkeys  attached,  so 
that  scrupulous  people  might  attend  from  a  laudable  desire  to  see 
the  menagerie  !)  A  murder  would  have  been  delightful  to  the 
people  of  Clark  township.  It  would  have  given  them  some- 
thing to  think  and  talk  about  Into  this  still  pool  Elder  Han- 
kins threw  the  vials,  the  trumpets,  the  thunders,  the  beast  with 
ten  horns,  the  he-goat,  and  all  the  other  apocalyptic  symbols 
understood  in  an  absurdly  literal  way.  The  world  was  to  come 
to  an  end  in  the  following  August.  Here  was  an  excitement, 
something  worth  living  for. 

All  the  way  to  their  homes  the  people  disputed  learnedly 
about  the  "  time  and  times  and  a  half,"  about  "  the  seven  heads 
and  ten  horns,"  and  the  seventh  vial.  The  fierce  polemical  dis- 
cussions and  the  bold  sectarian  dogmatism  of  the  day  had  taught 
them  anything  but  "  the  modesty  of  true  science,"  and  now  the 


60  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

unsolvable  problems  of  the  centuries  were  taken  out  of  the 
hands  of  puzzled  scholars  and  settled  as  summarily  and  posi- 
tively as  the  relative  merits  of  "  gourd  -  seed  "  and  "  flint "  corn. 
Samuel  Anderson  had  always  planted  his  corn  in  the  "  light "  of 
the  moon  and  his  potatoes  in  the  "  dark "  of  that  orb,  had 
always  killed  his  hogs  when  the  moon  was  on  the  increase  lest 
the  meat  should  all  go  to  gravy,  and  he  and  his  wife  had  care- 
fully guarded  against  the  carrying  of  a  hoe  through  the  house, 
for  fear  "  somebody  might  die."  Now,  the  preaching  of  the 
elder  impressed  him  powerfully.  His  life  had  always  been  not 
so  much  a  bad  one  as  a  cowardly  one,  and  to  get  into  heaven  by 
a  six  months'  repentance,  seemed  to  him  a  good  transaction. 
Besides  he  remembered  that  there  men  were  never  married,  and 
that  there,  at  last,  Abigail  would  no  longer  have  any  peculiar 
right  to  torture  him.  Hankins  could  not  have  ciphered  him  into 
Millerism  if  his  wife  had  not  driven  him  into  it  as  the  easiest 
means  of  getting  a  divorce.  No  doom  in  the  next  world  could 
have  alarmed  him  much,  unless  it  had  been  the  prospect  of  con- 
tinuing lord  and  master  of  Mrs.  Abigail.  And  as  for  that  op- 
pressed woman,  she  was  simply  scared.  She  was  quite  unwilling 
to  admit  the  coming  of  the  world's  end  so  soon.  Having  some 
ugly  accounts  to  settle,  she  would  fain  have  postponed  the  pay- 
day. Mrs.  Anderson  might  truly  have  been  called  a  woman 
who  feared  God — she  had  reason  to. 

And  as  for  August,  he  would  not  have  cared  much  if  the 
world  had  come  to  an  end,  if  only  he  could  have  secured  one 
glance  of  recognition  from  the  eyes  of  Julia.  But  Julia  dared 
not  look.  The  process  of  cowing  her  had  gone  on  from  child- 
hood, and  now  she  was  under  a  reign  of  terror.  She  did  not  yet 
know  that  she  could  resist  her  mother.     And  then  she  lived  in 


FIGGERS   WON'T   LIB.  61 

mortal  fear  of  her  mother's  heart-disease.  By  irritating  her 
she  might  kill  her.  This  dread  of  matricide  her  mother  held 
always  over  her.  In  vain  she  watched  for  a  chance.  It  did 
not  come.  Once,  when  her  mother's  head  was  turned,  she 
glanced  at  August.  But  he  was  at  that  moment  listening  of 
trying  to  listen  to  one  of  Jonas  Harrison's  remarks.  And  Au- 
gust, who  did  not  understand  the  circumstances,  was  only  able 
to  account  for  her  apparent  coldness  on  the  theory  suggested 
by  Andrew's  universal  unbelief  in  women,  or  by  supposing  that 
when  she  understood  his  innocent  remark  about  Andrew's  dis- 
appointment to  refer  to  her  mother,  she  had  taken  offense  at 
it.  And  so,  while  the  rest  were  debating  whether  the  world 
would  come  to  an  end  or  not,  August  had  a  disconsolate  feeling 
that  the  end  of  the  world  had  already  come.  And  it  did  not 
make  him  feel  better  to  have  Wilhelmina  whisper,  "  Oh !  but 
she  ft  pretty,  that  Anderson  girl— a'n't  she,  August?" 


62 


THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 


CHAPTER    IX. 


THE    NEW    S1NGING-MASTEK. 


yE  sings  like  an  owlingale  ! " 

Jonas  Harrison  was  leaning  against  the 
well-curb,  talking  to  Cynthy  Ann.  He'd  been 
down  to  the  store  at  Brayville,  he  said,  a  listenin' 
to  'em  discuss  Millerism,  and  seed  a  new  sing- 
ing-master there.  "  Could  he  sing  good  ?  "  Cynthy  asked,  rather 
to  prolong  the  talk  than  to  get  information. 

"  Sings  like  an  owlingale,  I  reckon.  He's  got  more  seals  to 
his  ministry  a-hanging  onto  his  watch-chain  than  I  ever  seed. 
Got  a  mustache  onto  the  top  story  of  his  mouth,  somethin'  like 
a  tuft  of  grass  on  the  roof  of  a  ole  shed  kitchen.  Peart  ?  He's 
the  peartest-lookin'  chap  I  ever  seed.  But  he  a'n't  no  singin'- 
master — not  ef  I'm  any  jedge  of  turnips.  He  warn't  born  to 
sarve  his  day  and  generation  with  a  tunin'-fork.  I  think  he's 
a-goin'  to  reckon-water  a  little  in  these  parts  and  that  he's  only 
a-playin'  singin' -master.  He  kin  play  more  fiddles'n  one,  you 
bet  a  hoss  !  Says  he  come  up  here  fer  his  wholesome,  and  I 
guess  he  did.     Think  ef  he'd  a-staid  where  he  was,  he  mout 


"DON'T    BE     ONOHARITABLE,   JONAS." 


THE   NEW   SINGING-MASTER.  65 

a-suffered  a  leetle  from  confinement  to  his  room,  and  that  room 

p'raps  not  more  nor  five  foot  by  nine,  and  ruther  dim-lighted 

and  poor-provisioned,  an'  not  much  chance  fer  takin'  exercise  in 

\ 
the  fresh  air  !  " 

"  Don't  be  oncharitable,  Jonas,  don't.  "We're  all  mis'able  sin- 
ners, I  s'pose ;  and  you  know  charity  don't  think  no  evil.  The 
man  may  be  all  right,  ef  he  does  wear  hair  on  his  lip.  Charity 
kivers  lots  a  sins." 

"  Ya-as,  but  charity  don't  kiver  no  wolves  with  wool.  An'  ef 
he  a'n't  a  woolly  wolf  they's  no  snakes  in  Jarsey,  as  little  Ridin' 
Hood  said  when  her  granny  tried  to  bite  her  head  off.  I'm  dead 
sot  in  favor  of  charity,  and  mean  to  gin  her  mv  vote  at  every 
election,  but  I  a'n't  a-goin'  to  have  her  put  a  blind-bridle  on  to 
me.  And  when  a  man  comes  to  Clark  township  a-wearing, 
straps  to  his  breechaloons  to  keep  hisself  from  leaving  terry- 
firmy  altogether,  and  a-weightin'  hisself  down  with  pewter  watch- 
seals,  gold-washed,  and  a  cultivating  a  crap  of  red-top  hay  onto 
his  upper  lip,  and  a-lettin'  on  to  be  a  singin' -master,  I  suspicions 
him.  They's  too  much  in  the  git-up  fer  the  come-out.  Well, 
here's  yer  health,  Cynthy ! " 

And  having  made  this  oracular  speech  and  quaffed  the  hard 
limestone  water,  Jonas  hung  the  clean  white  gourd  from  which 
he  had  been  drinking,  in  its  place  against  the  well-curb,  and 
started  back  to  the  field,  while  Cynthy  Ann  carried  her  bucket 
of  water  into  the  kitchen,  blaming  herself  for  standing  so  long 
talking  to  Jonas.  To  Cynthy  everything  pleasant  had  a  flavor 
of  sinfulness. 

The  pail  of  water  was  hardly  set  down  in  the  sink  when 
there  came  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Cynthy  found  standing  by 
it  the  strapped  pantaloons,  the  "red-top"  mustache,  the  watch- 


66  THE    END    OF    THE    WOULD. 

seals,  and  all  the  rest  that  went  to  make  up  the  new  singing- 
master.  He  smiled  when  he  saw  her,  one  of  those  smiles  which 
are  strictly  limited  to  the  lower  half  of  the  face,  and  are  wholly 
mechanical,  as  though  certain  strings  inside  were  pulled  with 
malice  aforethought  and  the  mouth  jerked  out  into  a  square 
grin,   such    as    an    ingeniously-made  automaton   might  display. 

"Is  Mr.  Anderson  in?" 

"No,  sir;  he's  gone  to  town." 

"  Is  Mrs.  Anderson  in  ?  " 

And  so  he  entered,  and  soon  got  into  conversation  with  the 
lady  of  the  house,  and  despite  the  prejudice  which  she  enter- 
tained for  mustaches,  she  soon  came  to  like  him.  He  smiled 
so  artistically.  He  talked  so  fluently.  He  humored  all  her 
whims,  pitied  all  her  complaints,  and  staid  to  dinner,  eating 
her  best  preserves  with  a  graciousness  that  made  Mrs.  Ander- 
son feel  how  great  was  his  condescension.  For  Mr.  Humphreys, 
the  singing-master,  had  looked  at  the  comely  face  of  Julia,  and 
looked  over  Julia's  shoulders  at  the  broad  acres  beyond ;  and  he 
thought  that  in  Clark  township  he  had  not  met  with  so  fine  a 
landscape,  so  nice  a  figure-piece.  And  with  the  quick  eye  of  a 
man  of  the  world,  he  had  measured  Mrs.  Anderson,  and  calcu- 
lated on  the  ease  with  which  he  might  complete  the  picture 
to  suit  his  taste. 

He  staid  to  supper.  He  smiled  that  same  fascinating  square 
smile  on  Samuel  Anderson,  treated  him  as  head  of  the  house, 
talked  glibly  of  farming,  and  listened  better  than  he  talked. 
He  gave  no  account  of  himself,  except  by  way  of  allusion. 
He  would  begin  a  sentence  thus,  "When  I  was  traveling  in 
France  with  my  poor  dear  mother,"  etc.,  from  which  Mrs.  Ander- 
son gathered  that  he  had  been  a  devoted  son,  and  then  he  would 


67 


THE     HAWK. 


THE    NEW    SINGINCJ-MASTER.  69 

relate  how  he  had  Been  something  curious  "  when  he  was  dining 
at  the  house  of  the  American  minister  at  Berlin."  "This  hazy 
air  reminds  me  of  my  native  mountains  in  Northern  New  York." 
And  then  he  would  allude  to  his  study  of  music  in  the  Con- 
servatory in  Lcipsic.  To  plain  country  people  in  an  out-of- 
the-way  Western  neighborhood,  in  1843,  such  a  man  was  better 
than  a  lyceum  full  of  lectures.  He  brought  them  the  odor  of 
foreign  travel,  the  flavor  of  city,  the  "otherness"  that  every- 
body craves. 

He  staid  to  dinner,  as  I  have  said,  and  to  supper.  He  staid 
over  night.  He  took  up  his  board  at  the  house  of  Samuel 
Anderson.  Who  could  resist  his  entreaty?  Did  he  not  assure 
them  that  he  felt  the  need  of  a  home  in  a  cultivated  family? 
And  was  it  not  the  one  golden  opportunity  to  have  the  daughter 
of  the  house  taught  music  by  a  private  master,  and  thus  give  a 
special  eclat  to  her  education  ?  How  Mrs.  Anderson  hoped 
that  this  superior  advantage  would  provoke  jealous  remarks 
on  the  part  of  her  neighbors  !  It  was  only  necessary  to  the 
completion  of  her  triumph  that  they  should  say  she  was  "  stuck 
up."  Then,  too,  to  have  so  brilliant  a  beau  for  Julia !  A  beau 
with  watch-seals  and  a  mustache,  a  beau  who  had  been  to  Paris 
with  his  mother,  studied  music  in  the  Conservatory  at  Leipsic, 
dined  with  the  American  minister  in  Berlin,  and  done  ever  so 
many  more  wonderful  things,  was  a  prospect  to  delight  the 
ambitious  heart  of  Mrs.  Anderson,  especially  as  he  flattered  the 
mother  instead  of  the  daughter. 

"  He's  a  independent  citizen  of  this  Federal  Union,"  said 
Jonas  to  Cynthy,  "  carries  his  head  like  he  was  intimately 
'quainted  with  the  'merican  eagle  hisself.  He's  playin'  this  game 
sharp.     He  deals  all  the  trumps  to  hisself,  and  most  everything 


70  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

besides.  He'll  carry  off  the  gal  if  something  don't  arrest  him  in 
his  headlong  career.  Jist  let  me  git  a  chance  at  him  when 
he's  soarin'  loftiest  into  the  amber  blue  above,  and  I'll  cut  his 
kite-string  fer  him,  and  let  him  fall  like  fork-ed  lightnin'  into 
a  mud-puddle." 

Cynthy  said  she  did  see  one  great  sin  that  he  had  committed 
for  sure.  That  was  the  puttin'  on  of  gold  and  costly  apparel. 
It  was  sot  down  in  the  Bible  and  in  the  Methodist  Discipline 
that  it  was  a  sin  to  wear  gold,  and  she  should  think  the  poor 
man  hadn't  no  sort  o'  regard  for  his  soul,  weighing  it  down  with 
them  things. 

But  Jonas  only  remarked  that  he  guessed  his  jewelry  warn't 
no  sin.     He  didn't  remember  nothing  agin  wearin'  pewter. 


AN   OFFER   OF   HELP.  71 


CHAPTER    X. 


AN    OFFER    OF   HELP. 


HE  singing-master,  Mr.  Humphreys,  went  to 
singing-school  and  church  with  Julia  in  a  mat- 
ter-of-course way,  treating  her  with  attention,  but 
taking  care  not  to  make  himself  too  attentive.  Ex- 
cept that  Julia  could  not  endure  his  smile — which 
was,  like  some  joint  stock  companies,  strictly  limited — she 
liked  him  well  enough.  It  was  something  to  her,  in  her  monot- 
onous life  under  the  eye  of  her  mother,  who  almost  never  left 
her  alone,  and  who  cut  off  all  chance  for  communication  with 
August — it  was  something  to  have  the  unobtrusive  attentions 
of  Mr.  Humphreys,  who  always  interested  her  with  his  adven- 
tures. For  indeed  it  really  seemed  that  he  had  had  more  adven- 
tures than  any  dozen  other  men.  How  should  a  simple-hearted 
girl  understand  him?  How  should  she  read  the  riddle  of  a  life 
so  full  of  duplicity — of  multiplicity — as  the  life  of  Joshua  Hum- 
phreys, the  music-teacher  ?  Humphreys  intended  to  make  love 
to  her,  but  during  the  first  two  weeks  he  only  aimed  to  gain  her 
esteem.    He  felt  that  there  was  a  clue  which  he  had  not  got. 


72  THE    END    OP   THE    WORLD. 

But  at  last  the  key  dropped  into  his  hands,  and  he  felt  sure  that 
the  unsophisticated  girl  was  in  his  power. 

Among  the  girls  that  attended  Humphreys's  singing-school  was 
Betsey  Malcolm,  the  near  neighbor  of  the  Andersons.  The 
singing-master  often  saw  her  at  Mr.  Anderson's,  and  he  often 
wished  that  Julia  were  as  easy  to  win  as  he  felt  Betsey  to  be. 
The  sensuous  mouth,  the  giddy  eyes  of  Betsey,  showed  quickly 
her  appreciation  of  every  flattering  attention  he  paid  her,  and 
though  in  Julia's  presence  he  was  careful  how  he  treated  her, 
yet  when  he,  walking  down  the  road  one  day,  alone,  met  her,  he 
courted  her  assiduously.  He  had  not  to  observe  any  caution  in 
her  case.  She  greedily  absorbed  all  the  flattery  he  could  give, 
only  pettishly  responding  after  a  while  :  "  O  dear  !  that's  the  way 
you  talk  to  me,  and  that's  the  way  you  talk  to  Jule  sometimes, 
I  s'pose.  I  guess  she  don't  mind  keeping  two  of  you  as  strings 
to  her  bow." 

"Two  !  What  do  you  mean,  my  fair  friend?  I  havn't  seen 
one,  yet." 

"  Oh,  no !  You  mean  you  haven't  seen  two.  You  see  one 
whenever  you  look  in  the  glass.  The  other  is  a  Dutchman,  and 
she's  dying  after  him.  She  may  flirt  with  you,  but  her  mother 
watches  her  night  and  day,  to  keep  her  from  running  off  with 
Gus  "Wehle." 

Like  many  another  crafty  person,  Betsey  Malcolm  had  fairly 
overshot  the  mark.  In  seeking  to  separate  Humphreys  from 
Julia,  she  had  given  him  the  clue  he  desired,  and  he  was  not 
slow  to  use  it,  for  he  was  almost  the  only  person  that  Mrs.  An- 
derson trusted  alone  with  Julia. 

In  the  dusk  of  the  evening  of  the  very  day  of  his  talk  with 
Betsey,  he  sat  on  the  long  front-porch  with  Julia.     Julia  liked 


AN   OFFER   OF   HELP.  73 

him  better,  or  rather  did  not  dislike  him  so  much  in  the  dark 
as  she  did  in  the  light.  For  when  it  was  light  she  could  see 
him  smile,  and  though  she  had  not  learned  to  connect  a  cold- 
blooded face  with  a  villainous  character,  she  had  that  childish 
instinct  which  made  her  shrink  from  Humphreys's  square  smile. 
It  always  seemed  to  her  that  the  real  Humphreys  gazed  at  her 
out  of  the  cold,  glittering  eyes,  and  that  the  smile  was  some- 
thing with  which  he  had  nothing  to  do. 

Sitting  thus  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  and  looking  out  over 
the  green  pasture  to  where  the  nigher  hills  ceased  and  the  dis- 
tant seemed  to  come  immediately  after,  their  distance  only  indi- 
cated by  color,  though  the  whole  Ohio  "bottom"  was  between, 
she  forgot  the  Mephistopheles  who  sat  not  far  away,  and  dreamed 
of  August,  the  "grand,"  as  she  fancifully  called  him.  And  he 
let  her  sit  and  dream  undisturbed  for  a  long  time,  until  the 
darkness  settled  down  upon  the  hills.     Then  he  spoke. 

"  I — I  thought,"  began  Humphreys,  with  well-feigned  hesi- 
tancy, "  I  thought,  I  should  venture  to  offer  you  my  assistance 
as  a  true  and  gallant  man,  in  a  matter — a  matter  of  supreme 
delicacy — a  matter  that  I  have  no  right  to  meddle  with.  I 
think  I  have  heard  that  your  mother  is  not  friendly  to  the  suit  of 
a  young  man  who — who — well,  let  us  say  who  is  not  wholly 
disagreeable  to  you.  I  beg  your  pardon,  don't,  tell  me  anything 
that  you  prefer  to  keep  locked  in  the  privacy  of  your  own  bo- 
som. But  if  I  can  render  any  assistance,  you  know.  I  have 
some  little  influence  with  your  parents,  maybe.  If  I  could  be  the 
happy  bearer  of  any  communications,  command  me  as  your  obe- 
dient servant." 

Julia  did  not  know  what  to  say.  To  get  a  word  to  August 
was  what  she  most  desired.     But  the  thought  of  using  Hum- 


74  THE   END   OP  THE   WORLD. 

phreys  was  repulsive  to  her.  She  could  not  see  his  face  in  the 
gathering  darkness,  but  she  could  feel  him  smile  that  same 
soulless,  geometrical  smile.  She  could  not  do  it.  She  did  not 
know  what  to  say.  So  she  said  nothing.  Humphreys  saw  that 
he  must  begin  farther  back. 

"  I  hear  the  young  man  spoken  of  as  a  praiseworthy  per- 
son. German,  I  believe  ?  I  have  always  noticed  a  peculiar 
manliness  about  Germans.  A  peculiar  refinement,  indeed,  and  a 
courtesy  that  is  often  wanting  in  Americans.  I  noticed  this 
when  I  was  in  Leipsic.  I  don't  think  the  German  girls  are  quite 
so  refined.  German  gentlemen  in  this  country  seem  to  prefer 
American  girls  oftentimes." 

All  this  might  have  sounded  hollow  enough  to  a  disinterested 
listener.  To  Julia  the  words  were  as  sweet  as  the  first  rain 
after  a  tedious  drouth.  She  had  heard  complaint,  censure,  in- 
nuendo, and  downright  abuse  of  poor  Gus.  These  were  the 
first  generous  words.  They  confirmed  her  judgment,  they  com- 
forted her  heart,  they  made  her  feel  grateful,  even  affection- 
ate toward  the  fop,  in  spite  of  his  watch-seals,  his  curled  mus- 
tache, his  straps,  his  cold  eyes,  and  his  artificial  smile.  Poor 
fool  you  will  call  her,  and  poor  fool  she  was.  For  she  could 
have  thrown  herself  at  the  feet  of  Humphreys,  and  thanked 
him  for  his  words.  Thank  him  she  did  in  a  stammering  way, 
and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  repeat  his  favorable  impressions  of 
Germans,  after  that.  What  he  wanted  was,  not  to  break  the  hold 
of  August  until  he  had  placed  himself  in  a  position  to  be  next 
heir  to  her  regard. 


THE     COON-DOG     ARGUMENT.  75 


CHAPTER    XI. 

THE    COON-DOG    ARGUMENT. 

HE  reader  must  understand  that  all  this  time  Elder 
Hankins  continued  to  bombard  Clark  township 
with  the  thunders  and  lightnings  of  the  Apocalypse, 
continued  to  whirl  before  the  dazed  imaginations  of 
his  rustic  hearers  the  wheels  within  wheels  and  the 
faces  of  the  living  creatures  of  'Zek'el,  continued  to  cipher  the 
world  out  of  existence  according  to  formulas  in  Dan' el,  marched 
out  the  he-goat,  made  the  seven  heads  and  ten  horns  of  the 
beast  do  service  over  and  over  again.  And  all  the  sweet  mys- 
teries of  Oriental  imagery,  the  mystic  figures  which  unex- 
pounded  give  so  noble  a  depth  to  the  perspective  of  Scripture, 
were  cut  to  pieces,  pulled  apart,  and  explained  as  though  they 
were  tricks  of  legerdemain.  Julia  was  powerfully  impressed, 
not  by  the  declamations  of  Hankins,  for  she  had  sensibility 
enough  to  recoil  from  his  vivisection  of  Scripture,  though  she  had 
been  all  her  life  accustomed  to  hear  it  from  other  than  Miller- 
ites,  but  she  was  profoundly  affected  by  the  excitement  about 
her.      Her  father,  attracted  in  part  by  the  promise  that  there 


76  THE   END    OP   THE   WORLD. 

should  be  no  marrying  there,  had  embraced  Millerism  with 
all  his  heart,  and  was  in  such  a  state  of  excitement  that  he 
could  not  attend  to  his  business.  Mrs.  Anderson  was  in  con- 
tinual trepidation  about  it,  though  she  tried  not  to  believe  it. 
She  was  on  the  point  of  rebelling  and  declaring  that  the  world 
should  not  come  to  an  end.  But  on  the  whole  she  felt  that  the 
government  of  the  universe  was  one  affair  in  which  she  would 
have  to  give  up  all  hope  of  having  her  own  way.  Meantime 
there  was  no  increase  of  religion.  Some  were  frightened  out  of 
their  vices  for  a  time,  but  a  passionate  terror  of  that  sort  is  the 
worst  enemy  of  true  piety. 

"  Fer  my  part,"  said  Cynthy  Ann,  as  she  walked  home  with 
Jonas, "  fer  my  part,  I  don't  believe  none  of  his  nonsense.  John 
Wesley"  (Jonas  was  a  New-Light,  and  Cynthy  always  talked 
to  him  about  Wesley)  "knowed  a  heap  more  about  Scripter 
than  all  the  Hankinses  and  Millerses  that  ever  was  born,  and 
he  knowed  how  to  cipher,  too,  I  'low.  Why  didn't  he  say 
the  world  was  goin'  to  wind  up  ?  An'  our  persidin'  elder  is  a 
heap  better  instructed  than  Hankins,  and  he  says  God  don't 
tell  nobody  when  the  world's  goin'  to  wind  up." 

"  Goin'  to  run  down,  you  mean,  Cynthy  Ann.  'Kordin'  to 
Hankins  it's  a  old  clock  gin  out  in  the  springs,  I  'low.  How 
does  Hankins  know  that  'Zek'el's  livin'  creeters  means  one 
thing  more'n  another?  He  talks  about  them  wheels  as  nateral 
as  ef  he  was  a  wagon-maker  fixin'  a  ole  buggy.  He  says  the 
thing's  a  gone  tater;  no  more  craps  of  corn  offen  the  bottom 
land,  no  more  electin'  presidents  of  this  free  and  glorious  Co- 
lumby,  no  more  Fourths,  no  more  shootin'  crackers  nor  span- 
gled banners,  no  more  nothin'.  He  ciphers  and  ciphers,  and 
then  spits  on  his  slate  and  wipes  us  all  out.    Whenever  Gabr'el 


THE   COON-DOG   ARGUMENT.  77 

blows  I'll  b'lieve  it,  but  I  won't  take  none  o'Hankins's  tootin' 
in  place  of  it.  I  shan't  git  skeered  at  no  tin-horns,  and  as  for 
papaw  whistles,  why,  I  say  Jericho  wouldn't  a-tumbled  for  no 
sech  music,  and  they  won't  fetch  down  no  stars  that  air  way." 

Here  old  Gottlieb  "Wehle,  who  had  just  joined  the  Miller- 
ites,  came  up.  "  Yonas,  you  mags  shport  of  de  Piple.  Ef  dem 
vaces  in  der  veels,  and  dem  awvool  veels  in  der  reels,  and  dem 
figures  yot  always  says  aideen  huntert  vordy  dree,  ef  dem  tond 
mean  sompin  awvool,  vot  does  dey  mean  ?    Hey?" 

"My  venerated  friend  and  feller-citizen  of  forren  birth," 
said  Jonas,  "you  hit  the  nail  on  the  crown  of  the  head  squar, 
with  the  biggest  sort  ov  a  sledge-hammer.  You  gripped  a-holt 
of  the  truth  that  air  time  like  the  American  bird  a-grippin'  the 
arries  on  the  shield.  What  do  they  mean?  That's  jest  the 
question,  and  you  Millerites  allers  argies  like  the  man  who 
warranted  his  dog  to  be  a  good  coon-dog,  bekase  he  warn't 
good  fer  nothin'  else  under  the  amber  blue.  Now,  my  time- 
honored  friend  and  beloved  German  voter,  jest  let  me  tell  you 
that  on  the  coon-dog  principle  you  could  a-wound  up  the  trade 
and  traffic  of  this  airth  any  time.  Fer  ef  they  don't  mean 
1843,  what  do  they  mean?  Why,  1843  or  1844,  of  course. 
You  don't  come  no  coon-dog  argyments  over  me,  not  while  I 
remain  sound  in  wind  and  limb." 

"  Goon-tog  !  Who  zed  goon-tog  ?  Ich  tidn't,  Hankins  tidn't, 
Ze'kel's  wision  tidn't  zay  nodin  pout  no  goon-tog.  What's 
goon-togs  cot  do  too  mit  de  end  of  de  vorld?  Yonas,  you  pe 
a  vool,  maype." 

"  The  same  to  yerself,  my  beloved  friend  and  free  and  en- 
lightened feller-citizen.  Long  may  you  wave,  like  a  green  bay 
boss,  and  a  jimson-weed  on  the  sunny  side  of  a  board-fence!" 


78  TUB    END    OF    THE    "WORLD. 

Gottlieb  hurried  on,  finding  Jonas  much  harder  to  under- 
stand than  the  prophecies. 

"I  hear  the  singing-master  is  goin'  to  jine,"  said  Cynthy  Ann. 
"  Wonder  ef  they'll  take  him  with  all  his  seals  and  straps,  and 
hair  on  his  upper  lip,  with  the  plain  words  of  the  Bible  agin 
gold  and  costly  apparel?     "Wonder  ef  he's  tuck  in,  too?" 

"Tuck  in?  He  an't  one  of  that  kind.  He  don't  never  git 
tuck  in — he  tucks  in.  He  knows  which  side  of  his  bread's  got 
quince  presarves  onto  it.  I  used  to  run  second  mate  on  the 
Dook  of  Orleans,  and  I  know  his  kind.  He'll  soar  around  like 
a  turkey-buzzard  fer  a  while.  Presently  he'll  'light.  He's 
rusticatin'  tell  some  scrape  blows  over.  An'  he'll  make  some- 
thin'  outen  it.  Business  afore  pleasure  is  his  motto.  He  don't 
hang  that  seducin'  grin  under  them  hawky  eyes  fer  nothin'. 
"Wait  till  the  pious  and  disinterested  example  'lights  some- 
wheres.  Then  look  out  for  the  feathers,  won't  ye  !  He  won't 
leave  nary  bone.  But  here  we  air.  I  declare,  Cynthy,  this 
walk  seems  the  shortest,  when  I'm  in  superfine,  number-one 
comp'ny  ! " 

Cynthy  was  so  pleased  with  this  remark,  that  she  did  pen- 
ance in  her  mind  for  a  week  afterwards.  It  was  so  wicked 
to  enjoy  one's  self  out  of  class-meeting ! 


TWO   MISTAKES.  79 


CHAPTER     XII, 


TWO   MISTAKES. 

T  the  singing-school  and  at  the  church  August 
waited  as  impatiently  as  possible  for  some  sign 
of  recognition  from  Julia.  He  little  knew  the 
fear  that  beset  her.  Having  seen  her  hysterical 
mother  prostrated  for  weeks  by  the  excitement 
of  a  dispute  with  her  father,  it  seemed  to  her  that  if  sbe  turned 
one  look  of  love  and  longing  toward  young  Wehle,  whose 
sweet  German  voice  rang  out  above  the  rest  in  the  hymns,  she 
might  kill  her  mother  as  quickly  as  by  plunging  a  knife  into 
her  heart.  The  steam-doctor,  who  was  the  family  physician,  had 
warned  her  and  her  father  separately  of  the  danger  of  exciting 
Mrs.  Anderson's  most  excitable  temper,  and  now  Julia  was  the 
slave  of  her  mother's  disease.  That  lucky  hysteria,  which  the 
steam-doctor  thought  a  fearful  heart-disease,  had  given  Mrs. 
Abigail  the  whip-hand  of  husband  and  daughter,  and  she  was 
not  slow  to  know  her  advantage,  using  her  heart  in  a  most 
heartless  way. 


80  THE   END    OE   THE    WORLD. 

August  could  not  blame  Julia  for  not  writing,  for  he  bad 
tried  to  break  the  blockade  by  a  letter  sent  through  Jonas  and 
Cynthy  Ann,  but  the  latter  had  found  herself  so  well  watched 
that  the  note  oppressed  her  conscience  and  gave  a  hangdog 
look  to  her  face  for  two  weeks  before  she  got  it  out  of  her 
pocket,  and  then  she  put  it  under  the  pillow  of  Julia's  bed,  and 
had  reason  to  believe  that  the  suspicious  Mrs.  Anderson  confis- 
cated it  within  five  minutes.  For  the  severity  of  maternal 
government  was  visibly  increased  thereafter,  and  Julia  received 
many  reminders  of  her  ingratitude  and  of  her  determination  to 
kill  her  self-sacrificing  mother  by  her  stubbornness. 

"  Well,"  Mrs.  Anderson  would  say,  "  it's  all  one  to  me 
whether  the  world  comes  to  an  end  or  not.  I  should  like  to 
live  to  see  the  day  of  judgment.  But  I  shan't.  No  affectionate 
mother  can  stand  such  treatment  as  I  receive  from  my  own 
daughter.     If  Norman  was  only  at  home  ! " 

It  is  proper  to  explain  here  that  Norman  was  her  son,  in 
whom  she  took  a  great  deal  of  comfort  when  he  was  away,  and 
whom  she  would  have  utterly  spoiled  by  indulgence  if  he  had 
not  been  born  past  spoiling.  He  was  the  only  person  to  whom 
she  was  indulgent,  and  she  was  indulgent  to  him  chiefly  be- 
cause he  was  so  weak  of  will  that  there  was  not  much  glory 
in  conquering  him,  and  because  her  indulgence  to  him  was  a 
rod  of  affliction  to  the  rest  of  her  family. 

Failing  to  open  communication  through  Jonas  and  Cynthy 
Ann,  August  found  himself  in  a  desperate  strait,  and  with  an 
impatience  common  to  young  men  he  unhappily  had  recourse  to 
Betsey  Malcolm.  She  often  visited  Julia,  and  twice,  when  Julia 
was  not  at  meeting,  he  went  home  with  the  ingenuous  Betsey, 
who  always  pretended  to  have  something  to  tell  him  "  about 


TWO    MISTAKES.  81 

Jule,"  and  who  yet,  for  the  pure  love  of  mischief-making,  tried 
to  make  him  think  as  poorly  as  possible  of  Julia's  sincerity, 
and  who,  from  pure  love  of  flirtation,  puckered  her  red  lips, 
and  flashed  at  him  with  her  sensuous  eyes,  and  sighed  and 
blushed,  or  rather  flushed,  while  she  sympathized  with  bim  in 
a  way  that  might  have  been  perilous  if  he  had  been  an  Amer- 
ican instead  of  a  constant-hearted  "  Dutchman,"  wholly  ab- 
sorbed with  the  image  of  Julia.  But,  so  far  as  carrying  mes- 
sages was  concerned,  Betsey  was  certainly  a  non-conductor. 
She  professed  never  to  be  able  to  run  the  blockade  with  any 
communication  of  his.  She  said  to  herself  that  she  wasn't 
going  to  help  Jule  Anderson  to  keep  all  the  beaus.  She  meant 
to  capture  one  or  the  other  of  them  if  she  could.  And, 
indeed,  she  did  not  dream  how  grievous  was  the  wrong  she 
did.  For  she  could  appreciate  no  other  feeling  in  the  matter 
than  vanity,  and  she  could  not  see  any  particular  harm  in 
"  taking  Jule  Anderson  down  a  peg."  And  so  she  assured  the 
anxious  and  already  suspicious  August  that  if  she  was  in  his 
place  she  should  want  that  singing-master  out  of  the  way. 
"  Some  girls  can't  stand  people  that  wear  jewelry  and  mus- 
taches and  straps  and  such  things.  And  Mr.  Humphreys  is 
very  careful  of  her,  won't  let  her  sit  too  late  on  the  porch,  and 
is  very  comforting  in  his  way  of  talking  to  her.  And  she 
seems  to  like  it.  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Gus  " — and  she  looked 
at  him  so  bewitchingly  that  the  pure  and  sensitive  August 
blushed,  he  could  hardly  tell  why — "  I  tell  you  Jule's  a  nice 
girl,  and  got  a  nice  property  back  of  her,  and  I  hope  she 
won't  act  like  her  mother.  And,  indeed,  I  can't  hardly  believe 
she  will,  though  the  way  she  eyes  that  Humphreys  makes  me 
mad."    She  had  suggested  the  old  doubt.    A  doubt  is  danger- 


82  THE   END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

ous  when  its  face  grows  familiar,  and  one  recognizes  the  "  Mon- 
sieur Tonson  come  again." 

And  all  the  message  the  disinterested  and  benevolent  Betsey 
bore  to  Julia  was  to  tell  her  exultingly  that  Gus  had  twice 
walked  home  with  her.  And  they  had  had  such  a  nice  time ! 
And  Julia,  girl  that  she  was,  declared  indignantly  that  she  didn't 
care  whom  he  went  with ;  though  she  did  care,  and  her  eyes 
and  face  said  so.  Thus  the  tongue  sometimes  lies — or  seems 
to  lie — when  the  whole  person  is  telling  the  truth.  The  only 
excuse  for  the  tongue  is  that  it  will  not  be  believed,  and  it 
knows  that  it  will  not  be  believed !  It  only  speaks  diplo- 
matically, maybe.  But  diplomatic  talking  is  bad.  Better  the 
truth.  If  Jule  had  known  that  her  words  would  be  reported 
to  August,  she  would  have  bitten  out  her  tongue  rather  than 
to  have  let  it  utter  words  that  were  only  the  cry  of  her 
wounded  pride.  Of  course  Betsey  met  August  in  the  road 
the  next  morning,  in  a  quiet  hollow  by  the  brook,  and  told  him 
sympathizingly,  almost  affectionately,  that  she  had  begun  to 
talk  to  Julia  about  him,  and  that  Jule  had  said  she  didn't  care. 
So  while  Julia  uttered  a  lie  she  spoke  the  truth,  and  while 
Betsey  uttered  the  truth  she  spoke  a  lie,  willful,  malicious,  and 
wicked. 

Now,  in  the  mean  time,  Julia,  on  her  side,  had  tried  to  open 
communication  through  the  only  channel  that  offered  itself.  She 
did  not  attempt  it  by  means  of  Betsey,  because,  being  a  woman, 
she  felt  instinctively  that  Betsey  was  not  to  be  trusted.  But 
there  was  only  one  other  to  whom  she  was  allowed  to  speak, 
except  under  a  supervision  as  complete  as  it  was  unacknowl- 
edged. That  other  was  Mr.  Humphreys.  He  evinced  a  con- 
stant  interest  in  her  affairs,  avowing  that  he  always  did  have 


TWO    MISTAKES.  83 

a  romantic  desire  to  effect  the  union  of  suitable  people,  even 
though  it  might  pain  his  heart  a  little  to  see  another  more 
fortunate  than  himself.  Julia  had  given  up  all  hope  of  commu- 
nicating by  letter,  and  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  make 
auy  confessions  to  a  man  who  had  such  a  smile  and  such  eyes, 
but  to  a  generous  proposition  of  Mr.  Humphreys  that  he  should 
see  August  and  open  the  way  for  any  communication  between 
them,  she  consented,  scarcely  concealing  her  eagerness. 

August  was  not  in  a  mood  to  receive  Humphreys  kindly.  He 
hated  him  by  intuition,  and  a  liking  for  him  had  not  been 
begotten  by  Betsey's  assurances  that  he  was  making  headway 
with  Julia.  August  was  riding  astride  a  bag  of  corn  on  his 
way  to  mill,  when  Humphreys,  taking  a  walk,  met  him. 

"  A  pleasant  day,  Mr.  Wehle  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  August,  with  a  courtesy  as  mechanical  as  Hum- 
phreys's smile. 

The  singing-master  was  rather  pleased  than  otherwise  to  see 
that  August  disliked  him.  It  suited  his  purpose  just  now  to 
gall  Wehle  into  saying  what  he  would  not  otherwise  have  said. 

"  I  hear  you  are  in  trouble,"  he  proceeded 

"How  so?" 

"  Oh  !  I  hear  that  Mrs.  Anderson  doesn't  like  Dutchmen." 
The  smile  now  seemed  to  have  something  of  a  sneer  in  it. 

"  I  don't  know  that  that  is  your  affair,"  said  August,  all 
his  suspicions,  by  a  sort  of  "  resolution  of  force,"  changing  into 
anger. 

"  Oh  !  I  beg  pardon,"  with  a  tone  half-mocking.  "  I  did 
not  know  but  I  might  help  settle  matters.  I  think  I  have 
Mrs.  Anderson's  confidence,  and  I  know  that  I  have  Miss 
Anderson's  confidence  in  an  unusual  degree.     I  think  a  great 


84  THE   END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

deal  of  her.  And  she  thinks  me  her  friend  at  least.  I  thought 
that  there  might  be  some  little  matters  yet  unsettled  between 
you  two,  and  she  suggested  that  maybe  there  might  be  some- 
thing you  would  like  to  say,  and  that  if  you  would  say  it  to 
me,  it  would  be  all  the  same  as  if  it  were  said  to  her.  She 
considers  that  in  the  relation  I  bear  to  her  and  the  family, 
a  message  delivered  to  me  is  the  same  in  effect  as  if  given  to 
her.  I  told  her  I  did  not  think  you  would,  as  a  gentleman, 
wish  to  hold  her  to  any  promises  that  might  be  irksome  to  her 
now." 

These  words  were  spoken  with  a  coolness  and  malicious- 
ness of  good-nature  quite  devilish,  and  August's  fist  involun- 
tarily doubled  itself  to  strike  him,  if  only  to  make  him  cease 
smiling  in  that  villainous  rectangular  way.  But  he  checked 
himself 

"  You  are  a  puppy.  Tell  that  to  Jule,  if  you  choose.  I  shall 
send  her  a  release  from  all  obligations,  but  not  by  the  hand 
of  a  rascal ! " 

Like  all  desperadoes,  Humphreys  was  a  coward.  He  could 
shoot,  but  he  could  not  fight,  and  just  now  he  was  affecting 
the  pious  or  at  least  the  high  moral  role,  and  had  left  his 
pistols,  brandy-flasks,  and  the  other  necessary  appurtenances 
of  a  gentleman,  locked  in  his  trunk.  Besides  it  would  not  at 
all  have  suited  his  purpose  to  shoot.  So  in  lieu  of  shooting  he 
only  smiled,  as  August  rode  off,  that  same  old  geometric  smile, 
the  elements  of  which  were  all  calculated.  He  seemed  inca- 
pable of  any  other  facial  contortion.  It  expressed  One  emo- 
tion, indeed,  about  as  well  as  another,  and  was  therefore  as 
convenient  as  those  pocket-knives  which  affect  to  contain  a  chest 
of  tools  in  one. 


so 


TWO   MISTAKES.  87 

Julia  was  already  stung  to  jealousy  by  Betsey  Malcolm's 
mischief-making,  and  it  did  not  require  much  more  to  put  her 
into  a  frenzy.  As  they  walked  home  from  meeting  the  next 
night  —  they  had  meeting  all  nights  now,  the  world  would 
soon  end  and  there  was  so  much  to  be  done — as  they  walked 
home  Humphrej's  contrived  to  separate  Julia  from  the  rest, 
and  to  tell  her  that  he  had  had  a  conversation  with  young 
Wehle. 

"It  was  painful,  very  painful,"  he  said,  "I  think  I  had 
better  not  say  any  more  about  it." 

"  Why  ? "  asked  Julia  in  terror. 

"  Well,  I  feel  that  your  grief  is  mine.  I  have  never  felt 
so  much  interest  in  any  one  before,  and  I  must  say  that  I  was 
grievously  disappointed.  This  young  man  is  not  at  all  worthy 
of  you." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  And  there  was  a  trace  of  indigna- 
tion in  her  tone. 

"  It  does  seem  to  me  that  the  man  who  has  your  love 
should  be  the  happiest  in  the  world;  but  he  refused  to  send 
you  any  message,  and  says  that  he  will  soon  send  you  an  entire 
release  from  all  engagement  to  him.  He  showed  no  tender- 
ness and  made  no  inquiry." 

The  weakest  woman  and  the  strongest  can  faint.  It  is 
a  woman's  last  resort.  When  all  else  is  gone,  that  remains. 
Julia  drew  a  sharp  quick  breath,  and  was  just  about  to  be- 
come unconscious.  Humphreys  stretched  his  arms  to  catch 
her,  but  the  sudden  recollection  that  in  case  she  fainted  he 
would  carry  her  into  the  house,  produced  a  reaction.  She 
released  herself  from  his  grasp,  and  hurried  in  alone,  lock- 
ing her  door,  and  refusing  admittance  to  her  mother.     From 


88  THE   END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

Humphreys,  who  had  put  himself  into  a  delicate  minor  key, 
Mrs.  Anderson  got  such  an  account  of  the  conversation  as  he 
thought  best  to  give.  She  then  opened  and  read  a  note  placed 
into  her  hand  by  a  neighbor  as  she  came  out  from  meeting. 
It  was  addressed  to  Julia,  and  ran : 

"  If  all  they  say  is  true,  you  have  quickly  changed.  I  do 
not  hold  you  by  any  promises  you  wish  to  break. 

"August  Wehle." 

Mrs.  Anderson  had  no  pity.  She  hesitated  not  an  instant. 
Julia's  door  was  fast.  But  she  went  out  upon  the  front 
upper  porch,  and  pushing  up  the  window  of  her  daughter's 
room  as  remorselessly  as  she  had  committed  the  burglary  on  her 
private  letter,  she  looked  at  her  a  moment,  sobbing  on  the  bed, 
and  then  threw  the  letter  into  the  room,  saying  :  "  It's  good  for 
you.    Read  that,  and  see  what  a  fellow  your  Dutchman  is." 

Then  Mrs.  Anderson  sought  her  couch,  and  slept  with  a 
serene  sense  of  having  done  Tier  duty  as  a  mother,  whatever 
might  be  the  result. 


THB  SPIDER  SPINS.  89 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE   SPIDER   SPINS. 

'ULIA  got  up  from  her  bed  the  moment  that 
her  mother  had  gone.  Her  first  feeling  was  that  her 
privacy  had  been  shamefully  outraged.  A  true 
mother  should  honorably  respect  the  reserve  of  the 
little  child.  But  Julia  was  now  a  woman,  grown, 
with  a  woman's  spirit.  She  rose  from  her  bed,  and  shut  her 
window  with  a  bang  that  was  meant  to  be  a  protest.  She  then 
put  the  tenpenny  nail  sometimes  used  to  fasten  the  window 
down,  in  its  place,  as  if  to  say,  "  Come  in,  if  you  can."  Then 
she  pulled  out  the  folds  of  the  chintz  curtain,  hanging  on  its 
draw-string  half-way  up  the  window.  If  there  had  been  any 
other  precaution  possible,  she  would  have  taken  it.  But  there 
was  not. 

She  took  up  the  note,  and  read  it.  Julia  was  not  a  girl  of 
keen  penetration.  Her  training  was  that  of  a  country  life.  She 
did  not  read  between  the  lines  of  August's  note,  and  could  only 
understand  that  she  was  dismissed.  Outraged  by  her  mother's 
tyranny,  spurned  by  her  lover,  she  stood  like  a  hunted  creature, 
brought  to  bay,  looking  for  the  last  desperate  chance  for  escape. 
Crushed?  No.  If  she  had  been  weaker,  if  she  had  been 
of  the  quieter,  frailer  sort,  instead  of  being,  as  she  was,  elastic, 
impulsive,  recuperative,  she  might  have  been  crushed.     She  was 


90  .  THE    END    OF   THE    WOULD. 

wounded  in  her  heart  of  hearts,  but  all  her  pride  and  hardihood, 
of  which  she  had  not  a  little,  had  now  taken  up  arms  against 
outrageous  fortune.  She  was  stung  at  every  thought  of  August 
and  his  letter,  of  Betsey  Malcolm  and  her  victory,  of  the  fact 
that  her  mother  had  read  the  letter  and  knew  of  her  humili- 
ation. And  she  paced  the  floor  of  her  room,  and  resolved  to 
resist  and  to  be  revenged.  She  would  marry  anybody,  that 
she  might  show  Betsey  and  August  they  had  not  broken  her 
heart  and  that  her  love  did  not  go  begging. 

O  Julia!  take  care.  Many  another  woman  has  jumped  off 
that  precipice! 

And  she  would  escape  from  her  mother.  The  indications  of 
affection  adroitly  given  by  Humphreys  were  all  remembered  now. 
She  could  have .  him,  and  she  would.  He  would  take  her  to 
Cincinnati.  She  would  have  her  revenge  all  around.  I  am 
sorry  to  show  you  my  heroine  in  this  mood.  But  the  fairest 
climes  are  sometimes  subject  to  the  fiercest  hurricanes,  the 
frightfulest  earthquakes  ! 

After  an  hour  the  room  seemed  hot.  She  pulled  back  the 
chintz  curtain  and  pushed  up  the  window.  The  blue-grass  in 
the  pasture  looked  cool  as  it  drank  the  heavy  dews.  She 
climbed  through  the  window  on  to  the  long,  old-fashioned  upper 
porch.  She  sat  down  upon  an  old-fashioned  settee  with  rock- 
ers, and  began  to  rock.  The  motion  relieved  her  nervous- 
ness and  fanned  her  hot  cheeks.  Yes,  she  would  accept  the 
first  respectable  lover  that  offered.  She  would  go  to  the  city 
with  Humphreys,  if  he  asked  her.  It  is  only  fair  to  say  that 
Julia  did  not  at  all  consider — she  was  .not  in  a  temper  to  con- 
sider— what  a  marriage  with  Humphreys  implied.  She  only 
thought  of  it  on    two   sides — the   revenge    upon    August   and 


THE    SPIDER    SPINS. 


91 


Betsey,  and  the  escape  from  a  tlirallclom  now  grown  more  bitter 
than  death.  True,  her  conscience  was  beginning  to  awaken, 
and  to  take  up  arms  against  her  resolve.  But  nothing  could  be 
plainer.  In  marrying  Mr.  Humphreys  she  should  marry  a 
friend,  the  only  friend  she  had.     In  marrying  him  she  would 


satisfy  her  mother,  and  was  it  not  her  duty  to  sacrifice  something 
to  her  mother's  happiness,  perhaps  her  mother's  life? 

Yes,  yes,  Julia,  a  false  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  is  another  path 
over  the  cliff!  In  such  a  mood  as  this  all  paths  lead  into  the 
abyss. 

Her  mind  was  made  up.      She  braced  her  will   against  all 


92  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

the  relentings  of  her  heart.  She  wished  that  Humphreys,  who 
had  indirectly  declared  his  love  so  often,  were  there  to  offer  at 
once.  She  would  accept  him  immediately,  and  then  the  whole 
neighborhood  should  not  say  that  she  had  been  deserted  by 
a  Dutchman.  For  in  her  anger  she  found  her  mother's  epithets 
expressive. 

He  was  there !  Was  it  the  devil  that  planned  it  ?  Does 
he  plan  all  those  opportunities  for  wrong  that  are  so  sure  to 
offer  themselves?  Humphreys,  having  led  a  life  that  turned 
night  into  day,  sat  at  the  farther  end  of  the  long  upper  porch, 
smoking  his  cigar,  waiting  a  bed-time  nearer  to  the  one  to 
which  he  was  accustomed. 

Did  he  suspect  the  struggle  in  the  heart  of  Julia  Anderson  ? 
Did  he  guess  that  her  pride  and  defiance  had  by  this  time 
reached  high-water  mark?  Did  he  divine  this  from  seeing 
her  there  ?  He  rose  and  started  in  through  the  door 
of  the  upper  hall,  the  only  opening  to  the  porch,  except 
the  window.  But  this  was  a  feint.  He  turned  back  and 
sat  himself  down  upon  the  farther  end  of  the  settee  from 
Julia.  He  understood  human  nature  perfectly,  and  had 
.  had  long  practice  in  making  gradual  approaches.  He  begged 
her  pardon  for  the  bungling  manner  in  which  he  had  com- 
municated intelligence  that  must  be  so  terrible  to  a  heart  so 
sensitive  !  Julia  was  just  going  to  declare  that  she  did  not  care 
anything  for  what  August  said  or  thought,  but  her  natural  truth- 
fulness checked  the  transparent  falsehood.  She  had  not  gone 
far  enough  astray  to  lie  consciously ;  she  was,  as  yet,  only  telling 
lies  to  herself.  Very  gradually  and  cautiously  did  he  proceed  so 
as  not  to  "flush  the  bird."  Even  as  I  saw,  an  hour  ago,  a 
cat  creep  upon  a  sparrow  with  fascinating  eyes,  and  a  waving, 


THE   SPIDER   SPINS.  93 

snake-like  motion  of  the  tail,  and  a  treacherous  feline  smile  upon 
her  face,  even  so,  cautiously  and  by  degrees,  Humphreys  felt 
Lis  way  with  velvet  paws  toward  his  prey.  He  knew  the 
opportunity,  that  once  gone  might  not  come  again;  he  soon 
guessed  that  this  was  the  hour  and  power  of  darkness  in  the 
soul  of  Julia,  the  hour  in  which  she  would  seek  to  flee  from 
her  own  pride  and  mortification.  And  if  Humphreys  knew 
how  to  approach  with  a  soft  tread,  very  slowly  and  cautiously, 
he  also  knew — men  of  his  "  profession "  always  know — when 
to  spring.  He  saw  the  moment,  he  made  the  spring,  he  seized 
the  prey. 

"  Will  you  trust  your  destiny  to  me,  Miss  Anderson  ?  You 
seem  beset  by  troubles.  I  have  means.  I  could  not  but  be 
wholly  devoted  to  your  welfare.  Let  me  help  you  to  flee  away 
from — from  all  this  mortification,  and  this — this  domestic  tyr- 
anny.    Will  you  intrust  yourself  to  me  ?  " 

He  did  not  say  anything  about  love.  He  had  an  instinctive 
feeling  that  it  would  not  be  best.  She  felt  herself  environed 
with  insurmountable  difficulties,  threatened  with  agonies  worse 
than  death — so  they  seemed  to  her.  He  simply,  coolly  opened 
the  door,  and  bade  her  easily  and  triumphantly  escape.  Had  he 
said  one  word  of  tenderness  the  reaction  must  have  set  in. 

She  was  silent. 

"  I  did  hope,  by  sacrificing  all  my  own  hopes,  to  effect  a 
reconciliation.  But  when  that  young  man  spoke  insulting  Avords 
about  you,  I  determined  at  once  to  offer  you  my  devoted  pro- 
tection. I  ask  no  more  than  you  are  able  to  give,  your  respect. 
Will  you  accept  my  life-long  protection  as  your  husband?" 

"  Yes ! "    said  the   passionate   girl   in  an  agony  of  despair. 


04 


THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 


CHAPTER     XIV. 


THE    SPIDER'S   WEB. 


OW  that  Humphreys  had  his  prey  he  did  not 
know  just  what  to  do  with  it.  Not  know- 
ing what  to  say,  he  said  nothing,  in  which  he 
showed  his  wisdom.  But  he  felt  that  saying  nothing 
was  almost  as  bad  as  saying  something.  And  he 
was  right.  For  with  people  of  impulsive  temperament  reac- 
tions are  sudden,  and  in  one  minute  after  Julia  had  said  yes, 
there  came  to  her  memory  the  vision  of  August  standing  in  the 
barn  and  looking  into  her  eyes  so  purely  and  truly  and  loyally, 
and  vowing  such  sweet  vows  of  love,  and  she  looked  back  upon 
that  perfect  hour  with  some  such  feeling  perhaps  as  Dives 
felt  looking  out  of  torment  across  the  great  gulf  into  paradise. 
Only  that  Dives  had  never  known  paradise,  while  she  had.  For 
the  man  or  woman  that  knows  a  pure,  self-sacrificing  love, 
returned  in  kind,  knows  that  which,  of  all  things  in  this  world, 
lies  nearest  to  God  and  heaven.  There  be  those  who  have  ears 
to  hear  this,  and  for  them  is  it  written.  Julia  thought  of 
August's  love  with   a  sinking  into  despair.     But  then  returned 


the  spider's  web.  95 

the  memory  of  his  faithlessness,  of  all  she  had  been  compelled 
to  believe  and  suffer.  Then  her  agony  came  back,  and  she  was 
glad  that  she  had  taken  a  decided  step.  Any  escape  was  a 
relief.  I  suppose  it  is  under  some  such  impulse  that  people 
kill  themselves.  Julia  felt  as  though  she  had  committed  suicide 
and  escaped.  j: 

Humphreys  on  his  part  was  not  satisfied.  I  used  the 
wrong  figure  of  speech  awhile  ago.  He  was  not  a  cat  with 
paw  upon  the  prey.  He  was  only  an  angler,  and  had  but 
hooked  his  fish.  He  had  not  landed  it  yet.  He  felt  how  slender 
was  the  thread  of  committal  by  which  he  held  Julia.  August 
had  her  heart.  He  had  only  a  word.  The  slender  vantage 
that  he  had,  he  meant  to  use  adroitly,  craftily.  And  he 
knew  that  the  first  thing  was  to  close  this  interview 
without  losing  any  ground.  The  longer  she  remained  bound, 
the  better  for  him.  And  with  his  craft  against  the  country 
girl's  simplicity  it  would  have  fared  badly  with  Julia  had  it  not 
been  for  one  defect  which  always  inheres  in  a  bad  man's  plots 
in  such  a  case.  A  man  like  Humphreys  never  really  understands 
a  pure  woman.  Certain  detached  facts  he  may  know,  but  he  can 
not  "put  himself  in  her  place." 

Humphreys  remarked  with  tenderness  that  Julia  must  not  stay 
in  the  night  air.  She  was  too  precious  to  be  exposed.  This 
flattery  was  comforting  to  her  wounded  pride,  and  she  found 
his  words  pleasant  to  her.  Had  he  stopped  here  he  might  have 
left  the  field  victorious.  But  it  was  very  hard  for  an  affianced 
lover  to  stop  here.  He  must  part  from  her  in  some  other  way 
than  this  if  he  would  leave  on  her  mind  the  impression  that 
she  was  irrevocably  bound  to  him.  He  stooped  quickly  with  a 
well-affected  devotion  and  lifted  her  hand  to  kiss  it.    That  act 


96  THE   END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

awakened  Julia  Anderson.  She  must  have  awaked  anyhow, 
sooner  or  later.  But  when  one  is  in  the  toils  of  such  a  man, 
sooner  is  better.  The  touch  of  Humphreys's  hand  and  lips  sent 
a  shudder  through  her  frame  that  Humphreys  felt.  Instantly 
there  came  to  her  a  perception  of  all  that  marriage  with  a  repul- 
sive man  signifies. 

Not  suicide,  but  perdition. 

She  jerked  her  hand  from  his  as  though    he  were   a   snake. 

"  Mr.  Humphreys,  what  did  I  say  ?  I  can't  have  you.  I  don't 
love  you.  I'm  crazy  to-night.  I  must  take  back  what 
I  said." 

"  No,  Julia.  Let  me  call  you  my  Julia.  You  must  not 
break  my  heart."  Humphreys  had  lost  his  cue,  and  every 
word    of    tenderness  he  spoke   made   his    case    more    hopeless. 

"I  never  can  marry  you — let  me  go  in,"  she  said,  brushing 
past  him.  Then  she  remembered  that  her  door  was  fast  on 
the  inside.  She  had  climbed  out  the  window.  She  turned  back, 
and  he  saw   his  advantage. 

"I  can  not  release  you.  Take  time  to  think  before  you 
ask  it.  Go  to  sleep  now  and  do  not  act  hastily."  He  stood 
between  her  and  the  window,  wishing  to  get  some  word  to 
which  he  could  hold. 

Julia's  two  black  eyes  grew  brighter.  "  I  see.  You  took  ad- 
vantage of  my  trouble,  and  you  want  to  hold  me  to  my 
words,  and  you  are  bad,  and  now — now  I  hate  you ! "  Then 
Julia  felt  better.  Hate  is  the  only  wholesome  thing  in  such  a 
case.  She  pushed  him  aside  vigorously,  stepped  upon  the  settee, 
slipped  in  at  the  window,  and  closed  it.  She  drew  the  curtain, 
but  it  seemed  thin,  and  with  characteristic  impulsiveness  she 
put  out  her  light  that  she  might  have  the  friendly  drapery  of 


the  spider's  web.  99 

darkness  about  her.  She  heard  the  soft — for  the  first  time  it 
seemed  to  her  stealthy — tread  of  Humphreys,  as  he  returned  to 
his  room.  Whether  she  swooned  or  whether  she  slept  after 
that  she  never  knew.  It  was  morning  without  any  time  inter- 
vening, she  had  a  headache  and  could  scarcely  walk,  and  there 
was  August's  note  lying  on  the  floor.  She  read  it  again — 
if  not  with  more  intelligence,  at  least  with  more  suspicion. 
She  wondered  at  her  own  hastiness.  She  tried  to  go  about  the 
house,  but  the  excitement  of  the  previous  night,  added  to  all 
she  had  suffered  beside,  had  given  her  a  headache,  blinding 
and  paralyzing,  that  sent  her  back  to  bed. 

And  there  she  lay  in  that  half-asleep,  half-awake  mood  which 
a  nervous  headache  produces.  She  seemed  to  be  a  fly  in  a 
web,  and  the  spider  was  trying  to  fasten  her.  A  very  polite  spider, 
with  that  smile  which  went  half-way  up  his  face  but  which 
never  seemed  able  to  reach  his  eyes.  He  had  straps  to  his 
pantaloons,  and  a  reddish  mustache,  and  she  shuddered  as  he 
wound  his  fine  webs  about  her.  She  tried  to  shake  off  the 
illusion.  But  the  more  absurd  an  illusion,  the  more  it  will  not 
be  shaken  off.  For  see !  the  spider  was  kissing  her  hand  ! 
Then  she  seemed  to  have  made  a  great  effort  and  to  have 
broken  the  web.  But  her  wings  were  torn,  and  her  feet  were 
shackled  by  the  fine  strands  that  still  adhered.  She  could  not 
get  them  off.  Wouldn't  somebody  help  her,  even  as  she  had 
many  a  time  picked  off  the  webs  from  a  fly's  feet  out  of  sheer 
pity?  And  all  day  she  would  perpetually  return  into  these 
half-conscious  states  and  feel  the  spider's  web  about  her  feet, 
and  ask  over  and  over  again  if  somebody  wouldn't  help  her  to 
get  out  of  the  meshes. 

Toward  evening  her  mother  brought  her  a  cup  of  tea  and  a 


100  THE    END    OP   THE   WORLD. 

piece  of  toast,  and  for  the  first  time  in  the  remembered  life 
of  the  daughter  made  an  endeavor  to  show  a  little  tenderness  for 
jier.  It  was  a  clumsy  endeavor,  for  when  the  great  gulf  is  once 
fixed  between  mother  and  child  it  is  with  difficulty  bridged.  And 
finding  herself  awkward  in  the  new  role,  Mrs.  Anderson  dropped  it 
and  resumed  her  old  gait,  remarking,  as  she  closed  the  door, 
that  she  was  glad  to  know  that  Julia  was  coming  to  her  senses, 
and  "had  took  the  right  road."  For  Mrs.  Abigail  was  more 
vigorous  than  grammatical. 

Julia  did  not  see  anything  significant  in  this  remark  at  first. 
But  after  a  while  it  came  to  her  that  Humphreys  must  have  told 
her  mother  of  something  that  had  passed  during  the  preceding 
night,  something  on  which  this  commendation  was  founded. 
Then  she  fell  into  the  same  torpor  and  was  in  the  same  old 
spider's  web,  and  there  was  the  same  spider  with  the  limited 
smile  and  the  mustache  and  the  watch-seals  and  the  straps  ! 
And  he  was  trying  to  fasten  her,  and  she  said  "yes."  And 
she  could  see  the  little  word.  The  spider  caught  it  and  spun 
it  into  a  web  and  fastened  her  with  it.  And  she  could  break 
all  the  other  webs  but  those  woven  out  of  that  one  little  word 
from  her  own  lips.  That  clung  to  her,  and  she  could  neither 
fly  nor  walk.  August  could  not  help  her — he  would  not  come. 
Her  mother  was  helping  the  spider.  Just  then  Cynthy  Ann  came 
along  with  her  broom.  Would  she  see  her  and  sweep  her  free  ? 
She  tried  to  call  her,  but  alas !  she  was  a  fly.  She  tried  to  buzz, 
but  her  wings  were  fast  bound  with  the  webs.  She  was  being 
smothered.  The  spider  had  seized  her.  She  could  not  move. 
He  was  smiling  at  her ! 

Then  she  woke  shuddering.     It  was  after  midnight. 


THE   WEB   BROKEN.  101 


CHAPTER    XV. 


THE     WEB     BROKEN 


'OVERTY,"  says  Beranger,  "  is  always  super- 
stitious." So  indeed  is  human  extremity  of 
any  sort.  Julia's  healthy  constitution  had  resisted 
the  threatened  illness,  the  feverishness  had  gone 
with  the  headache.  She  felt  now  only  one  thing : 
she  must  have  a  friend.  But  the  hard  piousness  of  Cynthy 
Ann's  face  had  never  attracted  her  sympathy.  It  had  always 
seemed  to  her  that  Cynthy  disapproved  of  her  affection  quite  as 
much  as  her  mother  did.  Cynthy's  face  had  indeed  a  chronic 
air  of  disapproval.  A  nervous  young  minister  said  that  he 
never  had  any  "liberty"  when  sister  Cynthy  Ann  was  in  his 
congregation.     She  seemed  averse  to  all  he  said. 

But  now  Julia  felt  that  there  was  just  one  chance  of  getting 
advice  and  help.  Had  she  not  in  her  dream  seen  Cynthy  Ann 
with  a  broom  ?  She  would  ask  help  from  Cynthy  Ann. 
There  must  be  a  heart  under  her  rind. 

But  to  get  to  her.    Her  mother's  affectionate  vigilance  never 


102 


THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 


left  her  alone  with.  Cynthy.  Perhaps  it  was  this  very  precau- 
tion that  had  suggested  Cynthy  Ann  to  her  as  a  possible  ally. 
She  must  contrive  to  have  a  talk  with  her  somehow.  But  how? 
There  was  one  way.  Black-eyed  people  do  not  delay.  Right  or 
wrong,  Julia  acted  with  sharp  decision.     Before  she  had  any 


AT     CTNTHT'S     DOOR. 


very  definite  view  of  her  plan,  she  had  arisen  and  slipped  on  a 
calico  dress.  But  there  was  one  obstacle.  Mr.  Humphreys  kept 
late  hours,  and  he  might  be  on  the  front-porch.  She  might 
meet    him    in    the    hall,  and  this  seemed  worse   to    her  than 


THE   WEB   BKOKEN.  103 

would  the  chance  of  meeting  a  tribe  of  Indians.  She  lis- 
tened and  looked  out  of  her  window ;  but  she  could  not  be 
sure ;  she  would  run  the  risk.  With  silent  feet  and  loud-beating 
heart  she  went  down  the  hall  to  the  back  upper  porch,  for  in 
that  day  porches  were  built  at  the  back  and  front  of  houses, 
above  and  below.  Once  on  the  back-porch  she  turned  to  the 
right  and  stood  by  Cynthy  Ann's  door.  But  a  new  fear  took 
possession  of  her.  If  Cynthy  Ann  should  be  frightened  and 
scream  ! 

"  Cynthy !  Cynthy  Ann ! "  she  said,  standing  by  the  bed  in 
the  little  bare  room  which  Cynthy  Ann  had  occupied  for  five 
years,  but  into  which  she  had  made  no  endeavor  to  bring  one 
ray  of  sentiment  or  one  trace   of  beauty. 

"  Cynthy !   Cynthy  Ann !  " 

Had  Cynthy  Ann  slept  anywhere  but  in  the  L  of  the  house, 
her  shriek — what  woman  could  have  helped  shrieking  a  little 
when  startled  ? — her  shriek  must  have  alarmed  the  family.  But 
it  did  not.  "  "Why,  child  !  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  You  are 
out  of  your  head,  and  you  must  go  back  to  your  room  at 
once."  And  Cynthv  had  arisen  and  was  already  tugging  at 
Julia's  arm. 

"  I  a'n't  out  of  my  head,  Cynthy  Ann,  and  I  won't  go  back  to 
my  room— not  until  I  have  had  a  talk  with  you." 

"What  is  the  matter,  Jule?"  said  Cynthy,  sitting  on  the 
bed  and  preparing  to  begin  again  her  old  fight  between 
duty  and  inclination.  Cynthy  always  expected  temptation.  She 
had  often  said  in  class-meeting  that  temptations  abounded  on 
every  hand,  and  as  soon  as  Julia  told  her  she  had  a  communi- 
cation to  make,  Cynthy  Ann  was  sure  that  she  would  find  in  it 
some  temptation  of  the  devil  to  do  something  she  "  hadn't  orter 


104  THE    END    OP  THE    WORLD. 

do,"  according  to  the  Bible  or  the  Discipline,  strictly  construed. 
And  Cynthy  was  a  "  strict  constructionist." 

Julia  did  not  find  it  so  easy  to  say  anything  now  that  she 
had  announced  herself  as  determined  to  have  a  conversation  and 
now  that  her  auditor  was  waiting.  It  is  the  worst  beginning  in 
the  world  for  a  conversation,  saying  that  you  intend  to  con- 
verse. When  an  Indian  has  announced  his  intention  of 
Laving  a  "big  talk,"  he  immediately  lights  his  pipe  and  relapses 
into  silence  until  the  big  talk  shall  break  out  accidentally  and 
naturally.  But  Julia,  having  neither  the  pipe  nor  the  Indian's 
stolidity,  found  herself  under  the  necessity  of  beginning  abruptly. 
Every  minute  of  delay  made  her  position  worse.  For  every 
minute  increased  her  doubt  of  Cynthy  Ann's  sympathy. 

"  O  Cynthy  Ann !   I'm  so  miserable ! " 

"  Yes,  I  told  your  ma  this  morning  that  you  was  looking 
mis'able,  and  that  you  had  orter  have  sassafras  to  purify  the 
blood,  but  your  ma  is  so  took  up  with  steam-docterin'  that  she 
don't  believe  in  nothin'  but  corn-sweats  and  such  like." 

"  Oh !  but,  Cynthy,  it  a'n't  that.  I'm  miserable  in  my 
mind.    I  wish  I  knew  what  to  do." 

"  I  thought  you'd  made  up  your  mind.  Your  ma  told  me 
you  was  engaged  to  Mr.  Humphreys." 

Julia  was  appalled.    How  fast  the  spider  spins  his  web! 

"  I  a'n't  engaged  to  him,  and  I  hate  him.  He  got  me  to 
say  yes  when  I  was  crazy,  and  I  believe  he  brought  about  the 
things  that  make  me  feel  so  nigh  crazy.  Do  you  think  he's  a 
good  man,  Cynthy  Ann  ?  " 

"Well,  no,  though  I  don't  want  to  set  in  nojedgment  on 
nobody ;  but  I  don't  see  as  how  as  he  kin  be  good  and  wear  all 
pf  them  costly  apparels  that's  so  forbid  in  the  Bible,  to  say 


THE    WEB   BROKEN. 


105 


nothing  of  the  Discipline.  The  Bible  says  you  must  know  a 
tree  by  its  fruits,  and  I  'low  his'n  is  mostly  watch-seals.  I  think 
a  good  sound  conversion  at  the  mourners'  bench  would  make 
him  strip  off  some  of  them  things,  and  put  them  into  the  mis- 
sionary collection.  Though  maybe  he  a'n't  so  bad  arter  all,  fer 
Jonas  says  that  liker'n  not  the  things  a'n't  gold,   but   pewter 


CTKTHY     ANN     HAD      OFTEN     SAID      IN      CLASS-MEETING     THAT     TEMPTATIONS 
ABOUNDED     ON     EVERY     HAND. 

washed  over.  But  I'm  afeard  he's  wor'ly-minded.  But  I  don't 
want  to  be  too  hard  on  a  feller-creatur'." 

"  Cynthy,  I  drempt  just  now  I  was  a  fly  and  he  was  a 
spicier,  and  that  he  had  me  all  wrapped  up  in  his  web,  and  that 
just  then  you  came  along  with  a  broom." 

"  That  must  be  a  sign,"  said  Cynthy  Ann.  "  It's  good  you 
didn't  dream  after  daylight.     Then  'twould  a  come  true.     But 


106  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

what  about  Mm  ?  I  thought  you  loved  Gus  Wehle,  and  though 
I'm  afeard  you're  makin'  a  idol  out  o'  him,  and  though  I'm  afeard 
he's  a  onbeliever,  and  I  don't  noways  like  marryin'  with  onbe- 
lievers,  yet  I  did  want  to  help  you,  and  I  brought  a  note  from 
him  wunst  and  put  it  under  the  head  of  your  bed.  I  was  afeard 
then  I  was  doin'  what  Timothy  forbids,  when  he  says  not 
to  be  pertakers  in  other  folks's  sins,  but,  you  see,  how  could  I 
help  doin'  it,  when  you  was  lookin'  so  woebegone  like,  and 
Jonas,  he  axed  me  to  do  it.  It's  awful  hard  to  say  you  won't 
to  Jonas,  you  know.  So  I  put  the  letter  there,  and  I  don't 
doubt  your  ma  mistrusted  it,  and  got  a  holt  on  it." 

"  Did  he  write  to  me  ?  A'n't  he  going  with  that  Betsey 
Malcolm  ?  " 

"  Can't  be,  I  'low.  On'y  this  evenin'  Jonas  said  to  me,  says  he, 
when  I  tole  him  you  was  engaged  to  Mr.  Humphreys,  says  he, 
in  his  way,  '  The  hawk's  lit,  has  he  ?  That'll  be  the  death  of 
two,'  says  he,  '  fer  she'll  die  on  it,  an'  so'll  poor  Gus,'  says  he. 
And  then  he  went  on  to  tell  as  how  as  Gus  is  all  ready  to  leave, 
and  had  axed  him  to  tell  him  of  any  news ;  but  he  said  he 
wouldn't  tell  him  that.  He'd  leave  him  some  hope.  Fer  he 
says  Gus  was  mighty  nigh  distracted  to-day,  that  is  yisterday,  fer 
its  most  mornin'  I  'low." 

Now  this  speech  did  Julia  a  world  of  good.  It  showed  her 
that  Gus  was  not  faithless,  that  she  might  count  on  Cynthy, 
and  that  Jonas  was  her  friend,  and  that  he  did  not  like  Hum- 
phreys. Jonas  called  him  a  hawk.  That  agreed  with  her  dream. 
He  was  a  hawk  and  a  spider. 

"  But,  Cynthy  Ann,  I  got  a  letter  night  before  last;  ma  threw 
it  in  the  window.  In  it  Gus  said  he  released  me.  I  hadn't  asked 
any  release.    What  did  he  mean  ? " 


THE   WEB   BROKEN.  107 

"  Honey,  I  wish  I  could  help  you.  It's  that  hawk,  as  Jonas 
calls  him,  that's  at  the  hottom  of  all  this  trouble.  I  don't 
believe  but  what  he's  told  some  lies  or  'nother.  I  don't  believe 
but  what  he's  a  bad  man.  I  allers  said  I  didn't  'low  no  good 
could  come  of  a  man  that  puts  on  costly  apparel  and  wears 
straps.  I'm  afeard  you're  making  a  idol  of  Gus  Wehle.  Don't 
do  it.  Ef  you  do,  God'll  take  him.  Misses  Pearsons  made  a 
idol  of  her  baby,  a  kissin'  it  and  huggin'  it  every  minute,  and 
I  said,  says  I,  Misses  Pearsons,  you  hadn't  better  make  a  idol 
of  a  perishin'  creature.  And  sure  enough,  God  tuck  it.  He's 
jealous  of  our  idols.  But  I  can't  help  helpin'  you.  You're  a 
onbeliever  yet  yourself,  and  I  'low  taint  no  sin  fer  you  to  marry 
Gus.  It's  yokin'  like  with  like.  I  wish  you  was  both  Chris- 
tians. I'll  speak  to  Jonas.  I  don't  know  what  I  ought  to  do, 
but  I'll  speak  to, Jonas.  He's  mighty  peart  about  sech  things,  is 
Jonas,  and  got  as  good  a  heart  as  you  ever  see.    And " 

"  Cynth-ee  A-ann ! "  It  was  the  energetic  voice  of  Mrs.  An- 
derson rousing  the  house  betimes.  For  the  first  time  Julia  and 
Cynthy  Ann  noticed  the  early  light  creeping  in  at  the  window. 
They  sat  still,  paralyzed. 

"  Cynth-ee  ! "  The  voice  was  now  at  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
for  Mrs.  Anderson  always  carried  the  war  into  Africa  if  Cynthy 
did  not  wake  at  once. 

"  Answer  quick,  Cynthy  Ann,  or  she'll  be  in  here ! "  said 
Julia,  sliding  behind  the  bed. 

"Ma'am!"  said  Cynthy  Ann,  starting  toward  the  door, 
where  she  met  Mrs.  Abigail.     "  I'm  up,"  said  Cynthy. 

"  Well,  what  makes  you  so  long  a-answerin'  then  ?  You  make 
me  climb  the  steps,  and  you  know  I  may  drop  down  dead  of 
heart-disease  any  day.     I'll  go  and  wake  Jule." 


108  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

"  Better  let  her  lay  awhile,"  said  Cynthy,  reproaching  herself 
instantly  for  the  deception. 

Mrs.  Anderson  hesitated  at  the  top  of  the  stairs. 

"  Jul-yee  ! "  she  called.  Poor  Jule  shook  from  head  to  foot. 
"  I  guess  I'll  let  her  lay  awhile ;  but  I'm  afraid  I've  already 
spoiled  the  child  by  indulgence,"  said  the  mother,  descending 
the  stairs.  She  relented  only  because  she  believed  Julia  was 
conquered. 

"  I  declare,  child,  it's  a  shame  I  should  be  helping  you  to 
disobey  your  mother.  I'm  afeard  the  Lord'll  bring  some  jedg- 
ment  on  us  yet."  For  Cynthy  Ann  had  tied  her  conscience  to 
her  rather  infirm  logic.  Better  to  have  married  it  to  her 
generous  heart.  But  before  she  had  finished  the  half-penitent 
lamentation,  Jule  was  flying  with  swift  and  silent  feet  down 
the  hall.  Arrived  in  her  own  room,  she  was  so  much 
relieved  as  to  be  almost  happy;  and  she  was  none  too  soon, 
for  her  industrious  mother  had  quickly  repented  her  criminal 
leniency,  and  was  again  climbing  the  stairs  at  the  imminent 
risk  of  her  precarious  life,  and  calling  "Jul-yee  !" 


JONAS   EXPOUNDS  T1JE   SUBJECT.  109 


CHAPTER    XVI. 


JONAS    EXPOUNDS    THE    SUBJECT. 


'LOWED  I'd  ketch  you  here,  my  venerable 
and  reliable  feller-citizen ! "  said  Jonas  as  he  en- 
'  tered  the  lower  story  of  Andrew  Anderson's  castle 
and  greeted  August,  sitting  by  Andrew's  loom. 
It  was  the  next  evening  after  Julia's  interview 
with  Cynthy  Ann.  "  When  do  you  'low  to  leave  this  terry- 
finny  and  climb  a  ash-saplin'  ?  To-night,  hey  ?  Goin'  to  the 
Queen  City  to  take  to  steamboat  life  in  hopes  of  havin'  your 
sperrits  raised  by  bein'  blowed  up?  Take  my  advice  and 
don't  make  haste  in  the  downward  road  to  destruction,  nor  the 
up-hill  one  nuther.  A  game  a'n't  never  through  tell  it's  played 
out,  an'  the  American  eagle's  a  chicken  with  steel  spurs. 
That  air  sweet  singer  of  Israel  that  is  so  hifalugeon  he  has 
to  anchor  hisself  to  his  boots,  knows  all  the  tricks,  and  is  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  the  kyards,  whether  it's  faro,  poker, 
euchre,  or  French  monte.  But  blamed  ef  Providence  a'n't 
dealed  you  a  better  hand'n  you  think.  Never  desperandum,  as 
the  Congressmen  say,  fer  while  the  lamp  holds  out  to  burn  you 


110  THE    END    OF    THE   WORLD. 

may  beat  the  blackleg  all  to  flinders  and  sing  and  shout  forever. 
Last  night  I  went  to  bed  thinkin'  'Umphreys  had  the  stakes  all 
in  his  pocket.  This  mornin'  I  found  he  was  in  a  far  way  to 
be  beat  outen  his  boots  ef  you  stood  yer  ground  like  a  man 
and  a  gineological  descendant  of  Plymouth  Rock!" 

Andrew  stopped  his  loom,  and,  looking  at  August,  said : 
"  Our    friend    Jonas    speaks   somewhat    periphrastically  and 
euphuistically,  and — he'll  pardon  me  —  but  he  speaks  a  little 
ambiguously." 

"My  love,  I  gin  it  up,  as  the  fish-hawk  said  to  the  bald 
eagle  one  day.  I  kin  rattle  off  odd  sayings  and  big  words 
picked  up  at  Fourth-of-Julys  and  barbecues  and  big  meetins, 
but  when  you  begin  to  fire  off  your  forty-pound  bomb-shell  book- 
words,  I  climb  down  as  suddent  as  Davy  Crockett's  coon. 
Maybe  I  do  speak  unbiguously,  as  you  say,  but  I  was  givin'  you 
the  biggest  talkin'  I  had  in  the  basket.  And  as  fer  my  good 
news,  a  feller  don't  like  to  eat  up  all  his  country  sugar  to 
wunst,  I  'low.  But  I  says  to  our  young  and  promisin'  friend 
of  German  extraction,  beloved,  says  I,  hold  onto  that  air  limb 
a  little  longer  and  you're  saved." 

"But,  Jonas,"  said  August,  spinning  Andrew's  winding- 
blade  round  and  speaking  slowly  and  bitterly,  "  a  man  don't 
like  to  be  trifled  with,  if  he  is  a  Dutchman ! " 

"  But  sposin'  a  man  hain't  been  trifled  with,  Dutchman  or 
no  Dutchman  ?  Sposin'  it's  all  a  optical  delusion  of  the  yeers  ? 
There's  a  word  fer  you,  Andrew,  that  a'n't  nuther  unbiguous 
nor  peri-what-you-may-call-it." 

"But,"  said   August,  "Betsey  Malcolm " 

"  Betsey  Malcolm !  "  said  Jonas.  "  Betsey  Malcolm  to  thun- 
der ! "  and  then  he  whistled.      "  Set  a  dog  to  mind  a   basket 


JONAS   EXPOUNDS   THE   SUBJECT.  Ill 

of  meat  when  his  chops  is  a-waterin'  fer  it!  Set  a  kingfisher 
to  take  keer  of  a  fish-pond!  Set  a  cat  to  raisin'  your  orphan 
chickens  on  the  bottle!  Set  a  spider  to  nuss  a  fly  sick  with 
dyspepsy  from  eatin'  too  much  molasses!  I'd  ruther  trust  a 
hen-hawk  with  a  flock  of  patridges  than  to  trust  Betsey  Mal- 
colm with  your  affairs.  I  ha'n't  walked  behind  you  from 
mectin'  and  3eed  her  head  a  bobbin'  like  a  bluebird's  and  her 
eyes  a  blazin'  an'  all  that,  fer  nothin'.  Like  as  not,  Betsey 
Malcolm's  more  nor  half  your  trouble  in  that  quarter." 

"But  she  said " 

"  It  don't  matter  three  quarters  of  a  rotten  rye-straw  what 
she  said,  my  inexper'enced  friend.  She  don't  keer  what  she 
says,  so  long  as  it's  fur  enough  away  from  the  truth  to  sarve 
her  turn.  An'  she's  told  pay-tent  double-back-action  lies  that 
worked  both  ways.  What  do  you  'low  Jule  Anderson  tho't 
when  she  hearn  tell  of  your  courtin'  Betsey,  as  Betsey  told  it, 
with  all  her  nods  an'  little  crowin'  ?  Now  looky  here,  Gus, 
I'm  your  friend,  as  the  Irishman  said  to  the  bar  that  hugged 
him,  an'  I  want  to  say  about  all  that  air  that  Betsey  told  you, 
spit  on  the  slate  an'  wipe  that  all  off.  They's  lie  in  her  soap  an' 
right  smart  chance  of  saft-soap  in  her  lie,  I  'low." 

These  rough  words  of  Jonas  brought  a  strange  intelligence 
into  the  mind  of  August.  He  saw  so  many  things  in  a  moment 
that  had  lain  under  his  eyes  unnoticed. 

"  There  is  much  rough  wisdom  in  your  speech,  Jonas,"  said 
Andrew. 

"  That's  a  fact.  You  and  me  used  to  go  to  school  to  old 
Benefield  together  when  I  was  little  and  you  was  growed  up. 
You  allers  beat  everybody  all  holler  in  books  and  spellin'- 
matches,  Andy.     But  I  'low  I  cut  my  eye-teeth  'bout  as  airly  as 


112 


THE    END    OF    THE   WORLD. 


some  of  you  that's  got  more  larnin'  under  your  skelp.  Now,  I 
say  to  our  young  friend  and  feller-citizen,  don't  go  'way  tell 
you've  spoke  a  consolin'  word  to  a  girl  as'll  stick  to  you  tell 


the  hour  and  article  of  death,  and  then  remains  yours  truly  for- 
ever, amen." 

"  How  do  you  know  that,  Jonas  ?  "  said  August,  smiling  in 
spite  of  himself. 

"  How  do  I  know  it  ?  Why,  by  the  testimony  of  a  uncor- 
rupted  and  disinterested  witness,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  if  the 
honorable  court  pleases.    What  did  that  Jule  Anderson  do,  poor 


JONAS   EXPOUNDS  THE   SUBJECT.  113 

thing,  but  spend  some  time  making  a  most  onseasonable  visit  to 
Cynthy  Ann  last  night  ?  And  I  'low  ef  there's  a  ole  gal  in  this 
sublunary  spear  as  tells  the  truth  in  a  bee-line  and  no  nonsense, 
it's  that  there  same,  individooal,  identical  Cynthy  Ann.  She's 
most  afeard  to  drink  cold  water  or  breathe  fresh  air  fer  fear 
she'll  commit  a  unpard'nable  sin.  And  that  persecuted  young 
pigeon  that  thought  herself  forsooken,  jest  skeeted  into  Cynthy 
Ann's  budwoir  afore  daybreak  this  mornin'  and  told  her  all 
her  sorrows,  and  how  your  letter  and  your  goin'  with  that  Betsey 
Malcolm " — here  August  winced — "  had  well  nigh  druv  her  to 
run  off  with  the  straps  and  watch-seals  to  get  rid  of  you  and 
Betsey  and  her  precious  and  mighty  affectionate  ma." 

"But  she  won't  look  at  me  in  meeting,  and  she  sent  Hum- 
phreys to  me  with  an  insulting  message." 

"  Which  text  divides  itself  into  two  parts,  my  brethren  and 
feller- travelers  to  etarnity.  To  treat  the  last  head  first,  beloved, 
I  admonish  you  not  to  believe  a  blackleg,  unless  it's  under  sar- 
cumstances  when  he's  got  onusual  and  airresistible  temptations 
to  tell  the  truth.  I  don't  advise  yer  to  spit  on  the  slate  and  rub 
it  out  in  this  case.  Break  the  slate  and  throw  it  away.  To 
come  to  the  second  pertikeler,  which  is  the  first  in  the  order 
of  my  text,  my  attentive  congregation.  She  didn't  look  at  you 
in  meetin'.  Now,  I  'spose  you  don't  know  nothin'  of  her  moth- 
er's heart-disease.  Heart-disease  is  trumps  with  Abigail  Ander- 
son. She  plays  that  every  turn.  Just  think  of  a  young  gal  who 
thinks  that  ef  she  looks  at  her  beau  when  her  mother's  by, 
she  might  kill  her  invalooable  parient  of  heart-disease.  Fer  my 
part,  I  don't  take  no  stock  in  Mrs.  Abby  Anderson's  dyin'  of 
heart-disease,  no  ways.  Might  as  well  talk  about  a  whale  dyin' 
of  footrot." 


114  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

"Well,  Jonas,  what  counsel  do  you  give  our  young  friend? 
Your  sagacity  is  to  be  depended  on." 

"  Why,  I  advise  him  to  speak  face  to  face  with  the  angel  of 
his  life.  Let  him  climb  into  my  room  to-night.  Leave  meetin' 
jest  afore  the  benediction — he  kin  do  without  that  wunst — and 
go  double-quick  acrost  the  fields,  and  git  safe  into  my  stoodio. 
Ferther  pertikelers  when  the  time  arrives," 


THE    WRONG   PEW.  115 


CHAPTER     XVII. 


THE    WRONG    PEW. 


y 

WJ  *  UGUST'S  own  good  sense  told  him  that  the 
advice  of  Jonas  was  not  good.  But  he  had  made 
many  mistakes  of  late,  and  was  just  now  inclined 
"^  to  take  anybody's  judgment  in  place  of  his  own. 
All  that  was  proud  and  gentlemanly  in  him  rebelled 
at  the  thought  of  creeping  into  another  man's  house  in  the 
night.  Modesty  is  doubtless  a  virtue,  but  it  is  a  virtue  respon- 
sible for  many  offenses.  Had  August  not  felt  so  distrustful 
of  his  own  wisdom,  nothing  could  have  persuaded  him  to  make 
his  love  for  Julia  Anderson  seem  criminal  by  an  action  so  want- 
ing in  dignity.  But  back  of  Jonas's  judgment  was  that  of 
Andrew,  whose  weakness  was  Quixotism.  He  wanted  to  live 
and  to  have  others  live  on  the  concert-pitch  of  romantic  action. 
There  was  something  of  chivalry  in  the  proposal  of  Jonas,  a 
spice  of  adventure  that  made  him  approve  it  on  purely  senti- 
mental grounds. 

The  more  August  thought  of    it,  and  the  nearer  he  was  to 
its  execution,  the  more  did  he  dislike  it.      But  I  have  often 


116  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

noticed  that  people  of  a  rather  quiet  temperament,  such  as 
young  "Wehle's,  show  vis  inertia  in  both  ways — not  very  easily 
moved,  they  are  not  easily  checked  when  once  in  motion. 
August's  velocity  was  not  usually  great,  his  momentum  was 
tremendous,  and  now  that  he  had  committed  himself  to  the 
hands  of  Jonas  Harrison  and  set  out  upon  this  enterprise,  he 
was  determined,  in  his  quiet  way,  to  go  through  to  the    end. 

Of  course  he  understood  the  house,  and  having  left  the 
family  in  meeting,  he  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  scale  one  of  the 
pillars  of  the  front-porch.  In  those  Arcadian  days  upper  win- 
dows were  hardly  ever  fastened,  except  when  the  house  was 
deserted  by  all  its  inmates  for  days.  Half-way  up  the  post  he 
was  seized  with  a  violent  trembling.  His  position  brought  to 
him  a  confused  memory  of  a  text  of  Scripture  :  "  He  that  entereth 
not  by  the  door  .  .  .  but  climbeth  up  some  other  way,  the 
same  is  a  thief  and  a  robber."  Bred  under  Moravian  influence, 
he  half-believed  the  text  to  be  supernaturally  suggested  to  him. 
For  a  moment  his  purpose  wavered,  but  the  habit  of  going 
through  with  an  undertaking  took  the  place  of  his  will,  and  he 
went  on  blindly,  as  Baker  the  Nile  explorer  did,  "more  like  a 
donkey  than  like  a  man."  Once  on  the  upper  porch  he  hesitated 
again.  To  break  into  a  man's  house  in  this  way  was  unlawful. 
His  conscience  troubled  him.  In  vain  he  reasoned  that  Mrs. 
Anderson's  despotism  was  morally  wrong,  and  that  this  action 
was  right  as  an  offset  to  it.      He  knew  that  it  was  not  right. 

I  want  to  remark  here  that  there  are  many  situations  in  life 
in  which  a  conscience  is  dreadfully  in  the  way.  There  are 
people  who  go  straight  ahead  to  success — such  as  it  is — with  no 
embarrassments,  no  fire  in  the  rear  from  any  scruples.  Some  of 
these  days  I  mean  to  write  an  essay  on  "  The  Inconvenience  of 


THE   WBONG   PEW.  117 

having  a  Conscience,"  in  which  I  shall  proceed  to  show  that  it 
costs  more  in  the  course  of  a  year  or  two,  than  it  would  to  keep 
a  stableful  of  fast  horses.  Many  a  man  could  afford  to  drive 
Dexters  and  Flora  Temples  who  would  be  ruined  by  a  con- 
science. But  I  must  not  write  the  essay  here,  for  I  am  keep- 
ing August  out  in  the  night  air  and  his  perplexity  all  this  time. 

August  Wehle  had  the  habit,  I  think  I  have  said,  of  going 
through  with  an  enterprise.  He  had  another  habit,  a  very  in- 
convenient habit  doubtless,  but  a  very  manly  one,  of  listening 
for  the  voice  of  his  conscience.  And  I  think  that  this  habit 
would  have  even  yet  turned  him  back,  as  he  had  his  hand  on 
the  window-sash,  had  it  not  been  that  while  he  stood  there  trying 
to  find  out  just  what  was  the  decision  of  his  conscience,  he  heard 
the  voices  of  the  returning  family.  There  was  no  time  to  lose, 
there  was  no  shelter  on  the  porch,  in  a  minute  more  they 
would  be  in  sight.  He  must  go  ahead  now,  for  retreat  was  cut 
off.  He  lifted  the  window  and  climbed  into  the  room,  lower- 
ing the  sash  gently  behind  him.  As  no  one  ever  came  into  this 
room  but  Jonas,  he  felt  safe  enough.  Jonas  would  plan  a  meet- 
ing after  midnight  in  Cynthy  Ann's  room,  and  in  Cynthy  Ann's 
presence. 

In  groping  for  a  chair,  August  drew  aside  the  curtain  of  the 
gable-window,  hoping  to  get  some  light.  Had  Jonas  taken  to 
cultivating  flowers  in  pots  ?  Here  was  a  "  monthly"  rose  on  the 
window-seat !  Surely  this  was  the  room.  He  had  occupied  it 
during  his  stay  in  the  house.  But  he  did  not  know  that  Mrs. 
Anderson  had  changed  the  arrangement  between  his  leaving  and 
the  coming  of  Jonas.  He  noticed  that  the  curtains  were  not  the 
same.  He  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  He  felt  for  the  bureau, 
and  recognized  by  various  little  articles,  a  pincushion,  a  tuck- 


118  THE    END    OP   THE   WOKLD. 

comb,  and  the  sun-bonnet  banging  against  the  window-frame, 
that  he  was  in  Julia's  room.  His  first  emotion  was  not  alarm.  It 
was  awe,  as  pure  and  solemn  as  the  high-priest  may  have  felt  in 
the  holy  place.  Everything  pertaining  to  Julia  had  a  curious 
sacredness,  and  this  room  was  a  temple  into  which  it  was  sacri- 
lege to  intrude.  But  a  more  practical  question  took  his  attention 
soon.  The  family  had  come  in  below,  except  Jonas  and  Cynthy 
Ann — who  had  walked  slowly,  planning  a  meeting  for  August — 
and  Mr.  Samuel  Anderson,  who  stood  at  the  front-gate  with 
a  neighbor.  August  could  hear  his  shrill  voice  discussing  the 
seventh  trumpet  and  the  thousand  three  hundred  and  thirty  and 
five  days.  It  would  not  do  to  be  discovered  where  he  was. 
Beside  the  fright  he  would  give  to  Julia,  he  shuddered  at  the 
thought  of  compromising  her  in  such  a  way.  To  go  back  was 
to  insure  his  exposure,  for  Samuel  Anderson  had  not  yet  half- 
settled  the  question  of  the  trumpets.  Indeed  it  seemed  to  August 
that  the  world  might  come  to  an  end  before  that  conversation 
would.  He  heard  Humphreys  enter  his  room.  He  was  now 
persuaded  that  the  room  formerly  occupied  by  Julia  must  be 
Jonas's,  and  he  determined  to  get  to  it  if  he  could.  He  felt 
like  a  villain  already.  He  would  have  cheerfully  gone  to  State's- 
prison  in  preference  to  compromising  Julia.  At  any  rate,  he 
started  out  of  Julia's  room  toward  the  one  that  was  occupied  by 
Jonas.  It  was  the  only  road  open,  and  but  for  an  unexpected 
encounter  he  would  have  reached  his  hiding-place  in  safety,  for 
the  door  was  but  fifteen  feet  away. 

In  order  to  explain  the  events  that  follow,  I  must  ask  the 
reader  to  go  back  to  Julia,  and  to  events  that  had  occurred  two 
hours  before.  Hitherto  she  had  walked  to  and  from  meeting 
and  "  singing "  with  Humphreys,  as  a  matter  of  courtesy.    On 


THE    WRONG   PEW.  119 

the  evening  in  question  she  had  absolutely  refused  to  walk  with 
him.  Her  mother  found  that  threats  were  as  vain  as  coaxing. 
Even  her  threat  of  dying  with  heart-disease,  then  and  there, 
killed  by  her  daughter's  disobedience,  could  not  move  Julia, 
who  would  not  even  speak  with  the  "  spider."  Her  mother 
took  her  into  the  sitting-room  alone,  and  talked  with  her. 

"  So  this  is  the  way  you  trifle  with  gentlemen,  is  it  ?  Night 
before  last  you  engaged  yourself  to  Mr.  Humphreys,  now  you 
won't  speak  to  him.  To  think  that  my  daughter  should  prove 
a  heartless  flirt  !  " 

I  am  afraid  that  the  unfilial  thought  came  into  Julia's  mind 
that  nothing  could  have  been  more  in  the  usual  order  of  things 
than  that  the  daughter  of  a  coquette  should  be  a  flirt. 

"  You'll  kill  me  on  the  spot ;  you  certainly  will."     Julia  felt 

anxious,  for  her  mother  showed  signs  of  going  into  hysterics. 

But  she  put  her  foot  out  and  shook  her  head  in  a  way  that  said 

that  all    her   friends  might  die  and  all  the  world  might  go  to 

pieces  before  she  would  yield.     Mrs.  Anderson  had  one  forlorn 

i 
hope.      She  determined  to  order  that  forward.      Leaving    Julia 

alone,  she  went  to  her  husband. 

"  Samuel,  if  you  value  my  life  go  and  speak  to  your  daugh- 
ter. She's  got  your  own  stubbornness  of  will  in  her.  She  is  just 
like  you;  she  will  have  her  own  way.  I  shall  die."  And  Mrs. 
Abigail  Anderson  sank  into  a  chair  with  unmistakable  symptoms 
of  a  hysterical  attack. 

I  am  aware  that  I  have  so  far  let  the  reader  hear  not  one 
word  of  Samuel  Anderson's  conversation.  He  has  played  a 
rather  insignificant  part  in  the  story.  Nothing  could  be  more 
comme  il  faut.  Insignificance  was  his  characteristic.  It  was  not 
so  much  that  he  was  small.     It  is  not  so  bad  a  thing  to  be  a 


120  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

little  man.  But  to  be  little  and  insignificant  also  is  bad.  There 
is  only  one  thing  worse,  which  is  to  be  big  and  insignificant.  If 
one  is  little  and  insignificant,  one  may  be  overlooked,  insignifi- 
cance and  all.  But  if  one  is  big  and  insignificant,  it  is  to  be  an 
obtrusive  cipher,  a  great  lubber,  not  easily  kept  out  of  sight. 

Appealed  to  by  his  wife,  Samuel  Anderson  prepared  to  assert 
his  authority  as  the  head  of  the  family.  He  almost  strutted  into 
Julia's  presence.  Julia  had  a  real  affection  for  her  father,  and 
nothing  mortified  her  more  than  to  see  him  acting  as  a  puppet, 
moved  by  her  mother,  and  yet  vain  enough  to  believe  himself 
independent  and  supreme.  She  would  have  yielded  almost  any 
other  point  to  have  saved  herself  the  mortification  of  seeing  her 
father  act  the  fool;  but  now  she  had  determined  that  she 
would  die  and  let  everybody  else  die  rather  than  walk  with 
a  man  whose  nature  seemed  to  her  corrupt,  and  whose  touch 
was  pollution.  I  do  not  mean  that  she  was  able  to  make  a  dis- 
tinct inventory  of  her  reasons  for  disliking  him,  or  to  analyze 
her  feelings.  She  could  not  have  told  just  why  she  had  so 
deep  and  utter  a  repugnance  to  walking  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to 
the  school-house  in  company  with  this  man.  She  followed  that 
strong    instinct  of  truth  and  purity  which  is  the  surest  guide. 

"  Julia,  my  daughter,"  said  Samuel  Anderson,  "  really  you 
must  yield  to  me  as  head  of  the  house,  and  treat  this  gentleman 
politely.  I  thought  you  respected  him,  or  loved  him,  and  he  told 
me  that  you  had  given  consent  to  marry  him,  and  had  told  him 
to  ask  my  consent." 

In  saying  this,  the  "  head  of  the  house "  was  seesawing  him- 
self backward  and  forward  in  his  squeaky  boots,  speaking  in 
a  pompous  manner,  and  with  an  effort  to  swell  an  effeminate 
voice  to  a  bass  key,  resulting  in  something  between   a  croak 


TUB   WUONG   PEW. 


121 


and  a  squeal.  Julia  sat  down  and  cried  in  mortification  and 
disgust.  Mr.  Anderson  understood  this  to  be  acquiescence,  and 
turned  and  went  into  the  next  room. 


JULIA  SAT  DOWN  IN  MOBTIFICATION. 

"Mr.  Humphreys,  my  daughter  will  be   glad  to  ask   your 
pardon.      She  is  over  her  little  pet ;  lovers  always  have    pets. 


122  THE   END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

Even  my  wife  and  I  have  had  our  disagreements  in  our 
time.     Julia  will    be    glad    to  see    you    in    the    sitting-room." 

Humphreys  drew  the  draw-strings  and  set  his  face  into 
its  broadest  and  most  parallelogrammatic  smile,  bowed  to  Mr. 
Anderson,  and  stepped  into  the  hall.  But  when  he  reached  the 
sitting-room  door  he  wished  he  had  staid  away.  Julia  had  heard 
his  tread,  and  was  standing  again  with  her  foot  advanced.  Her 
eyes  were  very  black,  and  were  drawn  to  a  sharp  focus.  She 
had  some  of  her  mother's  fire,  though  happily  none  of  her 
mother's  meanness.    It  is  hard  to  say  whether  she  spoke  or  hissed. 

"  Go  away,  you  spider !  I  hate  you !  I  told  you  I  hated 
you,  and  you  told  people  I  loved  you  and  was  engaged  to  you. 
Go  away!  You  detestable  spider,  you!  I'll  die  right  here,  but 
I  will  not  go  with  you." 

But  the  smirking  Humphreys  moved  toward  her,  speaking 
soothingly,  and  assuring  her  that  there  was  some  mistake.  Julia 
dashed  past  him  into  the  parlor  and  laid  hold  of  her  father's  arm. 

"  Father,  protect  me  from  that — that — spider  !  I  hate  him  ! " 
*Mr.  Anderson  stood  irresolute  a  moment  and  looked  appeal- 
ingly  to  his  wife  for  a  signal.  She  solved  the  difficulty  herself. 
On  the  whole  she  had  concluded  not  to  die  of  heart-disease 
until  she  saw  Julia  married  to  suit  her  taste,  and  having  found 
a  hill  she  could  not  go  through,  she  went  round.  Seizing  Julia's 
arm  with  more  of  energy  than  affection,  she  walked  off  with  her, 
or  rather  walked  her  off,  in  a  sulky  silence,  while  Mr.  Anderson 
kept  Humphreys  company. 

I  thought  best  to  keep  August  standing  in  the  door  of  Julia's 
room  all  this  time  while  I  explained  these  things  to  you,  so 
that  you  might  understand  what  follows.  In  reality  August  did 
not  stop  at  all,  but  walked  out  into  the  hall  and  into  difficulty. 


TUB    ENCOUNTER. 


123 


CHAPTER     XVIII 


THE  ENCOUNTER. 


UST  before  August  came  out  of  the  door  of 
Julia's  room  he  had  heard  Humphreys  enter  his 
room  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hall.  Humphreys 
had  lighted  his  cigar  and  was  on  his  way  to  the 
porch  to  smoke  off  his  discomfiture  when  he  met  Au- 
gust coming  out  of  Julia's  door  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hall. 
The  candle  in  Humphreys's  room  threw  its  light  full  on  August's 
face,  there  was  no  escape  from  recognition,  and  Wehle  was  too 
proud  to  retreat.  He  shut  the  door  of  Julia's  room  and  stood 
with  back  against  the  wall  staring  at  Humphreys,  who  did  not 
forget  to  smile  in  his  most  aggravating  way. 
"  Thief !  thief  !  "  called  Humphreys. 

In  a  moment  Mrs.  Anderson  and  Julia  ran  up  the  stairs,  fol- 
lowed by  Mr.  Anderson,  who  hearing  the  outcry  had  left  the 
matter  of  the  Apocalypse  unsettled,  and  by  Jonas  and  Cynthy 
Ann,  who  had  just  arrived. 

"  I  knew  it,"  cried  Mrs.  Anderson,  turning  on  the  mortified 
Julia,  "  I  never  knew  a  Dutchman  nor  a  foreigner  of  any  sort 


124  THE   END   OP  THE   WORLD. 

that  wouldn't  steal.  Now  you  see  what  you  get  by  taking  a 
fancy  to  a  Dutchman.  And  now  you  see" — to  her  husband — 
"  what  you  get  by  taking  a  Dutchman  into  your  house.  I  al- 
ways wanted  you  to  hire  white  men  and  not  Dutchmen  nor 
thieves ! " 

"  I  beg'  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Anderson,"  said  August,  with  very- 
white  lips,  "  I  am  not  a  thief." 

"  Not  a  thief,  eh?  "What  was  he  doing,  Mr.  Humphreys,  when 
you  first  detected  him?" 

"Coming  out  of  Miss  Anderson's  room,"  said  Humphreys, 
Bmiling  politely. 

"  Do  you  invite  gentlemen  to  your  room  ?  "  said  the  frantic 
woman  to  Julia,  meaning  by  one  blow  to  revenge  herself  and 
crush  the  stubbornness  of  her  daughter  forever.  But  Julia  was 
too  anxious  about  August  to  notice  the  shameless  insult. 

"Mrs.  Anderson,  this  visit  is  without  any  invitation  from 
Julia.  I  did  wrong  to  enter  your  house  in  this  way,  but  I  only 
am  responsible,  and  I  meant  to  enter  Jonas's  room.  I  did  not 
know  that  Julia  occupied  this  room.    I  am  to  blame,  she  is  not." 

"  And  what  did  you  break  in  for  if  you  didn't  mean  to  steal? 
It  is  all  off  between  you  and  Jule,  for  I  saw  your  letter.  I  shall 
have  you  arrested  to-morrow  for  burglary.  And  I  think  you 
ought  to  be  searched.    Mr.  Humphreys,  won't  you  put  him  out?  " 

Humphreys  stepped  forward  toward  August,  but  he  noticed 
that  the  latter  had  a  hard  look  in  his  eyes,  and  had  two  stout 
German  fists  shut  very  tight.     He  turned  back. 

"  These  thieves  are  nearly  always  armed.  I  think  I  had  best 
get  a  pistol  out  of  my  trunk." 

"  I  have  no  arms,  and  you  know  it,  coward,"  said  August. 
"  I  will  not  be  put  out  by  anybody,  but  I  will  go  out  whenever 


"  good-bt  ! " 


TUB    ENCOUNTER.  127 

the  master  of  this  house  asks  me  to  go  out,  and  the  rest  of  you 
open  a  free  path." 

"  Jonas,  put  him  out ! "  screamed  Mrs.  Anderson. 

"  Couldn't  do  it,"  said  Jonas,  "  couldn't  do  it  ef  I  tried. 
They's  too  much  bone  and  sinnoo  in  them  arms  of  his'n,  and 
moreover  he's  a  gentleman.  I  axed  him  to  come  and  see  me 
sometime,  and  he  come.  He  come  ruther  late  it's  true,  but  I 
s'pose  he  thought  that  sence  we  got  sech  a  dee-splay  of  watch- 
seals  and  straps  we  had  all  got  so  stuck  up,  we  wouldn't  receive 
calls  afore  fashionable  hours.  Any  way,  I  'low  he  didn't  mean 
no  harm,  and  he's  my  visitor,  seein'  he  meant  to  come  into  my 
winder,  knowin'  the  door  was  closed  agin  him.  And  he  won't 
let  no  man  put  him  out,  'thout  he's  a  man  with  more'n  half  a 
dozen  watch-seals  onto  him,  to  give  him  weight  and  influence." 

"  Samuel,  will  you  see  me  insulted  in  this  way  ?  Will  you  put 
this  burglar  out  of  the  house  ? " 

The  "  head  of  the  house,"  thus  appealed  to,  tried  to  look  im- 
portant ;  he  tried  to  swell  up  his  size  and  his  courage.  But  he 
did  not  dare  touch  August. 

"  Mr.  Anderson,  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  had  no  right  to  come 
in  as  I  did.  I  had  no  right  so  to  enter  a  gentleman's  house.  If 
I  had  not  known  that  this  cowardly  fop — I  don't  know  what 
else  he  may  be — was  injuring  me  by  his  lies  I  should  not  have 
come  in.  If  it  is  a  crime  to  love  a  young  lady,  then  I  have 
committed  a  crime.  You  have  only  to  exercise  your  authority 
as  master  of  this  house  and  ask  me  to  go." 

"I  do  ask  you  to  go,  Mr.  Wehle." 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Samuel  Anderson  had  ever  called 
him  Mr.  Wehle.  It  was  an  involuntary  tribute  to  the  dignity  of 
the  young  man,  as  he  stood  at  bay. 


128  THE   END    OF  THE   WORLD. 

"Mr.  Wehle,  indeed!"  said  Mrs.  Anderson. 

August  had  hoped  Julia  would  say  a  word  in  his  behalf.  But 
she  was  too  much  cowed  by  her  mother's  fierce  passion.  So  like 
a  criminal  going  to  prison,  like  a  man  going  to  his  own  funeral, 
August  Wehle  went  down  the  hall  toward  the  stairs,  which 
were  at  the  back  of  it.  Humphreys  instinctively  retreated  into 
his  room.  Mrs.  Anderson  glared  on  the  young  man  as  he  went 
by,  but  he  did  not  turn  his  head  even  when  he  passed  Julia. 
His  heart  and  hope  were  all  gone  ;  in  his  mortification  and 
defeat  there  seemed  to  him  nothing  left  but  his  unbroken 
pride  to  sustain  him.  He  had  descended  two  or  three  steps, 
when  Julia  suddenly  glided  forward  and  said  with  a  tremulous 
voice  :   "  You  aren't  going  without  telling  me  good-by,  August  ?  " 

"  Jule  Anderson  !  what  do  you  mean  ? "  cried  her  mother. 
But  the  hall  was  narrow  by  the  stairway,  and  Jonas,  by  standing 
close  to  Cynthy  Ann,  in  an  unconscious  sort  of  a  way  managed 
to  keep  Mrs.  Anderson  back;  else  she  would  have  laid  violent 
hands  on  her  daughter. 

When  August  lifted  his  eyes  and  saw  her  face  full  of  tender- 
ness and  her  hand  reached  over  the  balusters  to  him,  he  seemed 
to  have  been  suddenly  lifted  from  perdition  to  bliss.  The  tears 
ran  unrestrained  upon  his  cheeks,  he  reached  up  and  took  her 
hand. 

"  Good-by,  Jule !  God  bless  you  !  "  he  said  huskily,  and  went 
out  into  the  night,  happy  in  spite  of  all. 


THK    MUTUEli. 


129 


CHATTER    XIX 


THE    MOTHER. 


UT  of  the  door  he  went,  happy  in  spite  of  all 
the  mistakes  he  had  made  and  of  all  the  contre- 
temps of  his  provoking  misadventure;  happy  in 
spite  of  the  threat  of  arrest  for  burglary.  For 
nearly  a  minute  August  "Wehle  was  happy  in  that 
perfect  way  in  which  people  of  quiet  tempers  are  happy— happy 
without  fluster.  But  before  he  had  passed  the  gate,  he  heard 
a  scream  and  a  wild  hysterical  laugh ;  he  heard  a  hurrying  of 
feet  and  saw  a  moving  of  lights.  He  would  fain  have  turned 
back  to  find  out  what  the  matter  was,  he  had  so  much  of  inter- 
est in  that  house,  but  he  remembered  that  he  had  been  turned 
out  and  that  he  could  not  go  back.  The  feeling  of  outlawry 
mingled  its  bitterness  with  the  feeling  of  anxiety.  He  feared 
that  something  had  happened  to  Julia ;  he  lingered  and  listened. 
Humphreys  came  out  upon  the  upper  porch  and  looked  sharply 
up  and  down  the  road.  August  felt  instinctively  that  he  was  the 
object  of  search  and  slunk  into  a  fence-corner,  remembering 
that  he  was  now  a  burglar  and  at  the  mercy  of  the  man  whose 
face  was  enough  to  show  him* unrelenting. 


130  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

Presently  Humphreys  turned  and  went  in,  and  then  August 
came  out  of  the  shadow  and  hurried  away.  When  he  had  gone  a 
mile,  he  heard  the  hoofs  of  horses,  and  again  he  concealed  himself 
with  a  cowardly  feeling  he  had  never  known  before.  But  when 
he  found  that  it  was  Jonas,  riding  one  horse  and  leading  another, 
on  his  way  to  bring  Dr.  Ketchup,  the  steam-doctor,  he  ran  out. 
"Jonas!  Jonas!  what's  "the  matter?  Who's  sick?  Is  it 
Julia?" 

"  I'll  be  bound  you  ax  fer  Jule  first,  my  much-respected 
comrade.  But  it's  only  one  of  the  ole  woman's  conniption  fits, 
and  you  know  she's  got  nineteen  lives.  People  of  the  catamount 
sort  always  has.  You'd  better  gin  a  thought  to  yourself  now. 
I  got  you  into  this  scrape,  and  I  mean  to  see  you  out,  as  the  dog 
said  to  the  'possum  in  its  hole.  Git  up  onto  this  four-legged 
quadruped  and  go  as  fur  as  I  go  on  the  road  to  peace  and  safety. 
Now,  I  tell  you  what,  the  hawk's  got  a  mighty  good  purchase 
onto  you,  my  chicken,  and  he's  jest  about  to  light,  and  when  he 
lights,  look  out  fer  feathers  !  Don't  sleep  under  the  paternal 
shingles,  as  they  say.  Go  to  Andrew's  castle,  and  he'll  help  you 
git  acrost  the  river  into  the  glorious  State  of  ole  Kaintuck  afore 
any  warrant  can  be  got  out  fer  takin'  you  up.  .  Never  once  thought 
of  your  bein'  took  up.  But  don't  delay,  as  the  preachers  say. 
The  time  is  short,  and  the  human  heart  is  desperately  wicked  and 
mighty  deceitful  and  onsartain." 

As  far  as  Jonas  traveled  his  way,  he  carried  August  upon  the 
gray  horse.  Then  the  latter  hurried  across  the  fields  to  his 
father's  cabin.  Little  Wilhelmina  sat  with  face  against  the 
window  waiting  his  return. 

"  Where  did  you  go,  August  ?  Did  you  see  the  pretty  girl 
at  Anderson's?" 


THE    MOTHER. 


181 


He  stooped  and  kissed  her,  but,  without  speaking  a  word  to 
her,  he  went  over  to  where  his  mother  sat  darning  the  last  of 


THE    MOTHER'S    BLESSING. 


her  basket  of  stockings.     All  the  rest  were  asleep,  and  having 
assured  himself  of  this,  he  drew  up  a  low  chair  and  leaned  his 


132  THE    END    OF    THE   WORLD. 

elbow  on  his  knee  and  his  head  on  his  hand,  and  told  the  whole 
adventure  of  the  evening  to  his  mother,  and  then  dropped  his 
head  on  her  lap  and  wept  in  a  still  way.  And  the  sweet- 
eyed,  weary  Moravian  mother  laid  her  two  hands  upon  his  head 
and  prayed.  And  Wilhelmina  knelt  instinctively  by  the  side 
of  her  brother. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  God.  Or  perhaps  He  is  so  great  that 
our  praying  has  no  effect.  Perhaps  this  strong  crying  of  our 
hearts  to  Him  in  our  extremity  is  no  witness  of  his  readiness 
to  hear.  Let  him  live  in  doubt  who  can.  Let.  me  believe  that 
the  tender  mother-heart  and  the  loving  sister-heart  in  that  little 
cabin  did  reach  up  to  the  great  Heart  that  is  over  us  all  in 
Fatherly  love,  did  find  a  real  comfort  for  themselves,  and  did 
bring  a  strength-giving  and  sanctifying  something  upon  the  head 
of  the  young  man,  who  straightway  rose  up  refreshed,  and 
departed  out  into  the  night,  leaving  behind  him  mother  and 
sister  straining  their  eyes  after  him  in  the  blackness,  and  car- 
rying with  him  thoughts  and  memories,  and — who  shall  doubt? 
— a  genuine  heavenly  inspiration  that  saved  him  in  the  trials  in 
which  we  shall  next  meet  him. 

At  two  o'clock  that  night  August  Wehle  stood  upon  the  shore 
of  the  Ohio  in  company  with  Andrew  Anderson,  the  Backwoods 
Philosopher.  Andrew  waved  a  fire-brand  at  the  steamboat 
"  Isaac  Shelby,"  which  was  coming  round  the  bend.  And  the 
captain  tapped  his  bell  three  times  and  stopped  his  engines. 
Then  the  yawl  took  the  two  men  aboard,  and  two  days  after- 
ward Andrew  came  back  alone. 


THE    STEA.M-DOCTOB.  133 


CHAPTER    XX. 


THE       STEAM-DOCTOR. 


O  return  to  the  house  of  Samuel  Anderson. 
Pfc  Scarcely  had  August  passed  out  the  door  when 


Mrs.  Anderson  fell  into  a  fit  of  hysterics,  and  de- 
clared that  she  was  dying  of  heart-disease.  Her  time 
had  come  at  last !  She  was  murdered !  Murdered 
hy  her  own  daughter's  ingratitude  and  disobedience !  Struck 
down  in  her  own  house !  And  what  grieved  her  most  was  that 
she  should  never  live,  to  see  the  end  of  the  world ! 

And  indeed  she  seemed  to  be  dying.  Nothing  is  more  fright- 
ful than  a  good  solid  fit  of  hysterics.  Cynthy  Ann,  inwardly 
condemning  herself  as  she  always  did,  lifted  the  convulsed  pa- 
tient, who  seemed  to  be  anywhere  in  her  last  ten  breaths,  and 
carried  her,  with  Mr.  Anderson's  aid,  down  to  her  room,  and 
while  Jonas  saddled  the  horse,  Mr.  Anderson  put  on  his  hat  and 
prepared  to  go  for  the  doctor. 

"Samuel!  O  Sam-u-el!  Oh-h-lwi-h!"  cried  Mrs.  Anderson, 
with  rising  and  falling  inflections  that  even  patient  Dr.  Rush 
could  never  have  analyzed,  laughing  insanely  and  weeping  pite- 
ously  in  the  same  breath,  in  the  same  word ;  running  it  up  and 


134 


THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 


down  the  gamut  in  an  uncontrolled  and  uncontrollable  way ;  now 
whooping  like  a  savage,  and  now  sobbing  like  the  last  breath 
of  a  broken-hearted.     "  Samuel !    Sam-u-el !     O  Samuel !    Ha  ! 


"corn-sweats  and  calamus." 
t 
ha !  ha !  h-a-a !     Oh-h-h-h-h-h-h !     You   won't  leave  me  to  die 

alone !    After  the  wife  I've  been  to  you,  you  won't  leave  me  to 

die  alone  !     No-o-o-o-o !    Hoo-hoo-oo-00  !     You  musn't.     You 

shan't.     Send  Jonas,   and  you  stay  by  me !     Think "   here 


THE    STEAM-DOCTOR.  135 

her  breath  died  away,  and  for  a  moment  she  seemed  really  to 
be  dying.  "  Think,"  she  gasped,  and  then  sank  away  again. 
After  a  minute  she  opened  her  eyes,  and,  with  characteristic 
pertinacity,  took  up  the  sentence  just  where  she  had  left  off. 
She  had  carefully  kept  her  place  throughout  the  period,  of  un- 
consciousness. But  now  she  spoke,  not  with  a  gasp,  but  in  that 
shrill,  unnatural  falsetto  so  characteristic  of  hysteria ;  that  voice 
— half  yell — that  makes  every  nerve  of  the  listener  jangle  with 
the  discord.  "  Think,  oh-h-h  Samuel !  why  won't  you  think 
what  a  wife  I've  been  to  you  ?  Here  I've  drudged  and  scrubbed 
and  scrubbed  and  drudged  all  these  years  like  a  faithful  and 
industrious  wife,  never  neglecting  my  duty.     And  now — oh-h-h-h 

— now  to  be  left  alone  in  my "     Here  she  ceased  to  breathe 

again  for  a  while.  "  In  my  last,  hours  to  die,  to  die !  to  die  with- 
out— without — Oh-h-h!"    What  Mrs.  Anderson  was  left  to  die 

< 

without  she  never  stated.  Mr.  Anderson  had  beckoned  to  Jonas 
when  he  came  in,  and  that  worthy  had  gone  off  in  a  leisurely 
trot  to  get  the   "  steam-doctor." 

Dr.  Ketchup  had  been  a  blacksmith,  but  hard  work  disagreed 
with  his  constitution.  He  felt  that  he  was  made  for  something 
better  than  shoeing  horses.  This  ambitious  thought  was  first 
suggested  to  him  by  the  increasing  portliness  of  his  person, 
which,  while  it  made  stooping  over  a  horse's  hoof  inconvenient, 
also  impressed  him  with  the  fact  that  his  aldermanic  figure  would 
really  adorn  a  learned  profession.  So  he  bought  one  of  those 
little  hand-books  which  the  founder  of  the  Thomsonian  system 
sold  dirt-cheap  at  twenty  dollars  apiece,  and  which  told  how 
to  cure  or  kill  in  every  case.  The  owners  of  these  important 
treasures  of  invaluable  information  were  under  bonds  not  to 
disclose  the  profound  secrets  therein  contained,  the  fathomless 


136  THE   END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

wisdom  which  taught  them  how  to  decide  in  any  given  case 
whether  ginseng  or  a  corn-sweat  was  the  required  remedy. 
And  the  invested  twenty  dollars  had  brought  the  shrewd 
blacksmith  a  handsome  return. 

"  Hello ! "  said  Jonas  in  true  "Western  style,  as  he  reined  up 
in  front  of  Dr.  Ketchup's  house  in  the  outskirts  of  Brayville. 
"  Hello  the  house ! "  But  Dr.  Ketchup  was  already  asleep. 
"  Takes  a  mighty  long  time  to  wake  up  a  fat  man,"  soliloquized 
Jonas.  "  He  gits  so  used  to  hearin'  hisself  snore  that  he  can't 
tell  the  difference  'twixt  snorin'  and  thunder.  Hello  !  Hello  the 
house !  I  say,  hello  the  blacksmith-shop !  Dr.  Ketchup,  why 
don't  you  git  up?  Hello!  Corn-sweats  and  calamus!  Hello! 
"Whoop !  Hurrah  for  Jackson  and  Dr.  Ketchup  !  Hello  ! 
Thunderation !  Stop  thief !  Fire  !  Fire  !  Fire  !  Murder  !  Mur- 
der !    Help  !  Help !    Hurrah !    Treed  the  coon  at  last ! " 

This  last  exclamation  greeted  the  appearance  of  Dr.  Ketch- 
up's head  at  the  window. 

"  Are  you  drunk,  Jonas  Harrison  ?  Go  'way  with  your 
hollering,  or  I'll  have  you  took  up,"  said  Ketchup. 

"  You'll  find  that  tougher  work  than  making  horseshoes  any 
day,  my  respectable  friend  and  feller-citizen.  I'll  have  you  took 
up  fer  sleeping  so  sound  and  snorin'  so  loud  as  to  disturb  all 
creation  and  the  rest  of  your  neighbors.  I've  heard  you  ever 
sence  I  left  Anderson's,  and  thought  'twas  a  steamboat.  Come, 
my  friend,  git  on  your  clothes  and  accouterments,  fer  Mrs.  An- 
derson is  a-dyin'  or  a-lettin'  on  to  be  a-dyin'  fer  a  drink  of  gin- 
seng-tea or  a  corn-sweat  or  some  other  decoction  of  the  healin' 
art.  Come,  I  fotch  two  hosses,  so  you  shouldn't  lose  no  time  a 
saddlin'  your'n,  though  I  don't  doubt  the  ole  woman'd  git  well 
ef  you  never  gin  her  the  light  of  your  cheerful  count'nance. 


"fibe!    mubdeb!!    help!!!" 


137 


THE    STEAM-DOCTOR.  139 

She'd  git  well  fer  spite,  and  hire  a  calomel-doctor  jist  to  make 
you  mad.  I'd  jest  as  soon  and  a  little  sooner  expect  a  female 
wasp  to  die  of  heart-disease  as  her.". 

The  head  of  Dr.  Ketchup  had  disappeared  from  the  window 
about  the  middle  of  this  speech,  and  the  remainder  of  it  came  by 
sheer  force  of  internal  pressure/like  the  flowing  of  an  artesian  well. 
Dr.  Ketchup  walked  out,  with  ruffled  dignity,  carefully 
dressed.  His  immaculate  clothes  and  his  solemn  face  were 
the  two  halves  of  his  stock  in  trade.  Under  the  clothes  lay 
buried  Ketchup  the  blacksmith ;  under  the  wiseacre  face  was 
Ketchup  the  ignoramus.  Ignoramus  he  was,  but  not  a  fool.  As 
he  rode  along  back  with  Jonas,  he  plied  the  latter  with  ques- 
tions. If  he  could  get  the  facts  of  the  case  out  of  Jonas,  he 
would  pretend  to  have  inferred  them  from  the  symptoms  and 
thus  add  to  his  credit. 

"  What  caused  this  attack,  Jonas  ?  " 

"  I  'low  she  caused  it  herself.  Generally  does,  my  friend," 
said  Jonas. 

"  Had  anything  occurred  to  excite  her  ?  " 
"Well,  yes,  I  'low  they  had;  consid'able,  if  not  more." 
"  What  was  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  see  she'd  been  to  Hankins's  preachin'.  Now,  I 
'low,  my  medical  friend,  the  day  of  jedgment  a'n't  a  pleasin' 
prospeck  to  anybody  that's  jilted  one  brother  to  marry  another 
and  then  cheated  the  jilted  one  outen  his  sheer  of  his  lamented 
father's  estate.      Do  you  think  it  is,  my  learned  friend?" 

But  Dr.  Ketchup  could  not  be  sure  whether  Jonas  was  making 
game  of  him  or  not.     So  he  changed  the  subject. 
"  Nice  hoss,  this  bay,"  said  the  "  doctor." 
"  Well,  yes,"  said  Jonas,  "  I  don't  'low  you  ever  put  shoes  on 


140  THE    END    OP   THE   "WOKLD. 

no  better  hoss  than  this  'ere  in  all  your  days — as  a  blacksmith. 
Did  you  now,  my  medical  friend?" 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  said  Ketchup  testily,  and  was  silent.     ' 

Mrs.  Anderson  had  grown  impatient  at  the  doctor's  delay. 
"  Samuel !  Oo  !  oo !  oo  !  Samuel !  My  dear,  I'm  dying.  Jonas 
don't  care.  He  wouldn't  hurry.  I  wonder  you  trusted  Mm ! 
If  you  had  been  dying,  I  should  have  gone  myself  for  the  doctor. 
Oo !    oo  !    oo !   oh !      If  I  should   die,  nobody  would  be  sorry." 

Abigail  Anderson  was  not  to  blame  for  telling  the  truth  so 
exactly  in  this  last  sentence.  It  was  an  accident.  She  might 
have  recalled  it  but  that  Dr.  Ketchup  walked  in  at  that  moment. 

He  felt  her  pulse ;  looked  at  her  tongue ;  said  that  it  was 
heart-disease,  caused  by  excitement.  He  thought  it  must  be 
religious  excitement.  She  should  have  a  corn-sweat  and  some 
wafer-ash  tea.  The  corn-sweat  would  act  as  a  tonic  and  strength- 
en the  pericardium.  The  wafer-ash  would  cause  a  tendency  of 
blood  to  the  head,  and  thus  relieve  the  pressure  on  the  juggler- 
vein.  Cynthy  Ann  listened  admiringly  to  Dr.  Ketchup's  incom- 
prehensible, oracular  utterances,  and  then  speedily  put  a  bushel 
of  ear-corn  in  the  great  wash-boiler,  which  was  already  full  of 
hot  water  in  expectation  of  such  a  prescription,  and  set  the 
wafer-ash  to  draw. 

Julia  had,  up  to  this  time,  stood  outside  her  mother's  door 
trembling  with  fear,  and  not  daring  to  enter.  She  longed  to  do 
something,  but  did  not  know  how  it  would  be  received.  Now, 
while  the  deep,  sonorous  voice  of  Ketchup  occupied  the  attention 
of  all,  she  crept  in  and  stood  at  the  foot  of  Mrs.  Anderson's  bed. 
The  mother,  recovering  from  her  twentieth  dying  spell,  saw  her. 

"  Take  her  away  !  She  has  killed  me !  She  wants  me  to 
die  !    /  know  !     Take  her  away  ! " 


T1IK    STEAM-DOCTOR.  141 

And  Julia  went  to  her  own  room  and  shut  herself  up  in  dark- 
ness and  in  wretchedness,  but  in  all  that  miserable  night  there 
came  to  her  not  one  regret  that  she  had  reached  her  hand  to  the 
departing  August.  ■ 

The  neighbor-women  came  in  and  pretended  to  do  some- 
thing for  the  invalid,  but  really  they  sat  by  the  kitchen-stove 
and  pumped  Cynthy  Ann  and  the  doctor,  and  managed  in  some 
way  to  connect  Julia  with  her  mother's  illness,  and  shook  their 
heads.  So  that  when  Julia  crept  down-stairs  at  midnight,  in  hope 
of  being  useful,  she  found  herself  looked  at  inquisitively,  and  felt 
herself  to  be  such  an  object  of  attention  that  she  was  glad  to 
take  the  advice  of  Cynthy  Ann  and  find  refuge  in  her  own 
room.     On  the  stairs  she  met  Jonas,  who  said  as  she  passed : 

"  Don't  fret  yourself,  little  turtle-dove.  Don't  pay  no  'ten- 
tion  to  ole  Ketchup.  Your  ma  won't  die,  not  even  with  his  corn- 
sweats  to  waft  her  on  to  glory. '  You  done  your  duty  to-night 
like  one  of  Fox's  martyrs,  and  like  George  Washi'ton  with  his 
little  cherry-tree  and  hatchet.  And  you'll  git  your  reward,  if 
not  in  the  next  world,  you'll  have  it  in  this." 

Julia  lay  down  awhile,  and  then  sat  up,  looking  out  into  the 
darkness.  Perhaps  God  was  angry  with  her  for  loving  August ; 
perhaps  she  was  making  an  idol  of  him.  "When  Julia  came  to 
think  that  her  love  for  August  was  in  antagonism  to  the  love 
of  God,  she  did  not  hesitate  which  she  would  choose.  All  the  best 
of  her  nature  was  loyal  to  August,  whom  she  "  had  seen,"  as 
the  Apostle  John  has  it.  She  could  not  reason  it  out,  but  a 
God  who  seemed  to  be  in  opposition  to  the  purest  and  best  emo- 
tion of  her  heart  was  a  God  she  could  not  love.  August  and 
the  love  of  August  were  known  quantities.  God  and  the  love  of 
God  were  unknown,  and  the  God  of  whom  Cynthy  spoke  (and 


142  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

of  -whom  many  a  mistaken  preacher  has  spoken),  that  was  jeal- 
ous of  Mrs.  Pearson's  love  for  her  baby,  and  that  killed  it  be- 
cause it  was  his  rival,  was  not  a  God  that  she  could  love  with- 
out being  a  traitor  to  all  the  good  that  God  had  put  in  her  heart. 
The  God  that  was  keeping  August  away  from  her  because  he 
was  jealous  of  the  one  beautiful  thing  in  her  life  was  a  Mo- 
loch, and  she  deliberately  determined  that  she  would  not  wor- 
ship or  love  him.  The  True  God,  who  is  a  Father,  and  who  is 
not  Supreme  Selfishness,  doing  all  for  His  own  glory,  as  men 
falsely  declare ;  the  True  God — who  does  all  things  for  the  good 
of  others — loved  her,  I  doubt  not,  for  refusing  to  worship  the 
Conventional  Deity  thus  presented  to  her  mind.  Even  as  He  has 
pitied  many  a  mother  that  rebelled  against  the  Governor  of  the 
Universe,  because  she  was  told  the  Governor  of  the  Universe,  in 
a  petty  seeking  for  his  own  glory,  had  taken  away  her  "  idols." 

But  Julia  looked  up  at  the  depths  between  the  stars,  and  felt 
how  great  God  must  be,  and  her  rebellion  against  Him  seemed 
a  war  at  fearful  odds.  And  then  the  sense  of  God's  omnipres- 
ence, of  His  being  there  alone  with  her,  so  startled  her  and  awak- 
ened such  a  Seeling  of  her  fearful  loneliness,  orphanage,  antago- 
nism to  God,  that  she  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  at  two  o'clock 
she  went  down  again ;  but  Mrs.  Brown  looked  over  at  Mrs.  Or- 
cutt  in  a  way  that  said :  "  Told  you  so  !  Guilty  conscience ! 
Can't  sleep ! "  And  so  Julia  thought  God,  even  as  she  con- 
ceived Him,  better  company  than  men,  or  rather  than  women, 

for well,  I  won't  make  the  ungallant  remark  ;  each  sex  has  its 

besetting  faults. 

Julia  took  back  with  her  a  candle,  thinking  that  this  awful 
God  would  not  seem  so  close  if  she  had  a  light.  There  lay  on 
her  bureau  a  Testament,  one  of  those  old  editions  of  the  Amer- 


THE    STEAM-DOCTOR.  143 

ican  Bible  Society,  printed  on  indifferent  paper,  and  bound  in 
a  red  muslin  tbat  was  given  to  fading,  the  like  whereof  in  book- 
making  has  never  been  seen  since.  She  felt  angry  with  God, 
who,  she  was  sure,  was  persecuting  her,  as  Cynthy  Ann  had 
said,  out  of  jealousy  of  her  love  for  August,  and  she  was  deter- 
mined that  she  would  not  look  into  that  red-cloth  Testament, 
which  seemed  to  her  full  of  condemnation.  But  there  was  a 
fascination  about  it  she  could  not  resist.  The  discordant  hys- 
terical laughter  of  her  mother,  which  reached  her  ears  from 
below,  harrowed  her  sorely,  and  her  grief  and  despair  at  her 
own  situation  were  so  great  that  she  was  at  last  fain  to  read 
the  only  book  in  the  room  in  order  that  she  might  occupy 
her  mind.  There  is  a  strange  superstition  among  certain  pietists 
which  leads  them  to  pray  for  a  text  to  guide  them,  and  then  take 
any  chance  passage  as  a  divine  direction.  I  do  not  mean  to 
say  that  Julia  had  any  supernatural  leading  in  her  reading. 
The  New  Testament  is  so  full  of  comfort  that  one  could  hardly 
manage  to  miss  it.  She  read  the  seventh  chapter  of  Luke : 
how  the  Lord  healed  the  centurion's  servant  that  was  "  dear 
unto  him,"  and  noted  that  He  did  not  rebuke  the  man  for  loving 
his  slave ;  how  the  Lord  took  pity  on  that  poor  widow  who 
wept  at  the  bier  of  her  only  son,  and  brought  him  back  to  life 
again,  and  "restored  him  to  his  mother."  This  did  not  seem  to 
be  just  the  Christ  that  Cynthy  Ann  thought  of  as  the  foe  of 
every  human  affection.  She  read  more  that  she  did  not  under- 
stand so  well,  and  then  at  the  end  of  the  chapter  she  read  about 
the  woman  that  was  a  sinner,  that  washed  His  feet  with  grate- 
ful tears  and  wiped  them  with  her  hair.  And  she  would  have 
taken  the  woman's  guilt  to  have  had  the  woman's  opportunity 
and  her  benediction. 


L44  THE   END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

At  last,  turning  over  the  leaves  without  any  definite  purpose, 
she  lighted  on  a  place  in  Matthew,  where  three  verses  at  the 
end  of  a  chapter  happened  to  stand  at  the  head  of  a  column.  I 
suppose  she  read  them  because  the  beginning  of  the  page  and 
the  end  of  the  chapter  made  them  seem  a  short  detached  piece. 
And  they  melted  into  her  mood  so  that  she  seemed  to  know 
Christ  and  God  for  the  first  time.  "  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that 
labor  and  are  heavy  laden,"  she  read,  and  stopped.  That  means 
me,  she  thought  with  a  heart  ready  to  burst.  And  that  saying  is 
the  gateway  of  life.  "When  the  promises  and  injunctions  mean 
me,  I  am  saved.  Julia  read  on,  "And  I  will  give  you  rest." 
And  so  she  drank  in  the  passage,  clause  by  clause,  until  she 
came  to  the  end  about  an  easy  yoke  and  a  light  burden,  and 
then  God  seemed  to  her  so  different.  She  prayed  for  August, 
for  now  the  two  loves,  the  love  for  August  and  the  love  for 
Christ,  seemed  not  in  any  way  inconsistent.  She  lay  down 
saying  over  and  over,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  "rest  for  your 
souls,"  and  "  weary  and  heavy  laden,"  and  "  come  unto  me,"  and 
"meek  and  lowly  of  heart,"  and  then  she  settled  on  one  word 
and  repeated  it  over  and  over,  "rest,  rest,  rest."  The  old  feel- 
ing was  gone.  She  was  no  more  a  rebel  nor  an  orphan.  The 
presence  of  God  was  not  a  terror  but  a  benediction.  She  had 
found  rest  for  her  soul,  and  He  gave  His  beloved  sleep.  For 
when  she  awoke  from  what  seemed  a  short  slumber,  the  red 
light  of  a  glorious  dawn  came  in  at  the  window,  and  her  candle 
was  flickering  its  last  in  the  bottom  of  the  socket.  The  Testa- 
ment lay  open  as  she  had  left  it,  and  for  days  she  kept  it  open 
there,  and  did  not  dare  read  anything  but  these  three  verses,  lest 
she  should  lose  the  rest  for  her  soul  that  she  found  here. 


TliE     HAWK    IN    A    NEW    PAET. 


145 


CHAPTER    XXI. 


THE    HAWK    IN   A   NEW   PART. 


RUMPHREYS  was  now  in  the  last  weeks  of  his 
singing-school.     He  had  become  a  devout  Miller- 


ite,  and  was  paying  attentions  to  the  not  unwill- 
ing Betsey  Malcolm,  though  pretending  at  Ander- 
^  \s»  son's  to  be  absolutely  heart-broken  at  the  conduct  of 
Julia  in  jilting  him  after  she  had  given  him  every  assurance  of 
affection.  And  then  to  be  jilted  for  a  Dutchman,  you  know  ! 
In  this  last  regard  his  feeling  was  not  all  affectation.  In  his 
soul,  cupidity,  vanity,  and  vindictiveness  divided  the  narrow 
territory  between  them.  He  inwardly  swore  that  he'd  get  satis- 
faction somehow.  Debts  which  were  due  to  his  pride  should 
be  collected  by  his  revenge. 

Did  you  ever  reflect  on  the  uselessness  of  a  landscape  when 
one  has  no  eyes  to  see  it  with,  or,  what  is  worse,  no  soul  to  look 
through  one's  eyes  ?  Humphreys  was  going  down  to  the  castle 
to  call  on  the  Philosopher,  and  "  Shady  Hollow,"  as  Andrew 
called  it,  had  surely  never  been  more  glorious  than  on  the  morn- 
ing which  he  chose  for  his  walk.  The  black-haw  bushes  hung 
over  the  roadside,  the  maples  lifted  up  their  great  trunk-pillars 


146  THE    END    OP   THE   WORLD* 

toward  the  sky,  and  the  grape-vines,  some  of  them  four  and  even 
six  inches  in  diameter,  reached  up  to  the  high  boughs,  fifty  or  a 
hundred  feet,  without  touching  the  trunk.  They  had  been  car- 
ried up  by  the  growth  of  the  tree,  tree  and  vine  having  always 
lived  in  each  other's  embrace.  Out  through  the  opening  in  the 
hollow,  Humphreys  saw  the  green  sea  of  six-feet-high  Indian 
corn  in  the  fertile  bottoms,  the  two  rows  of  sycamores  on  the 
sandy  edges  of  the  river,  and  the  hazy  hills  on  the  Kentucky  side. 
But  not  one  touch  of  sentiment,  not  a  perception  of  beauty,  entered 
the  soul  of  the  singing-master  as  he  daintily  chose  his  steps  so  as 
to  avoid  soiling  his  glossy  boots,  and  as  he  knocked  the  leaves  off 
the  low-hanging  beech  boughs  with  his  delicate  cane.  He  had 
his  purpose  in  visiting  Andrew,  and  his  mind  was  bent  on 
his  game. 

Charon,  the  guardian  of  the  castle,  bayed  his  great  hoarse 
bark  at  the  Hawk,  and  with  that  keen  insight  into  human  nature 
for  which  dogs  are  so  remarkable,  he  absolutely  forbade  the 
dandy's  entrance,  until  Andrew  appeared  at  the  door  and  called 
the  dog  away. 

"  I  am  delighted  at  having  the  opportunity  of  meeting  a  great 
light  in  literature  like  yourself,  Mr.  Anderson.  Here  you  sit 
weaving,  earning  your  bread  with  a  manly  simplicity  that  is 
truly  admirable.  You  are  like  Cincinnatus  at  his  plow.  I  also 
am  a  literary  man." 

He  really  was  a  college  graduate,  though  doubtless  he  was  as 
much  of  a  humbug  in  recitations  and  examinations  as  he  had 
always  been  since.  Andrew's  only  reply  to  his  assertion  that 
he  was  a  literary  man  was  a  rather  severe  and  prolonged  scrutiny 
of  his  oily  locks,  his  dainty  mustache,  his  breast-pin,  his  watch- 
seals,  and  finally  his  straps  and  his  boots.    For  Andrew  firmly 


THE     HAWK    IN    A    NEW    PART.  147 

believed  that  neglected  hair,  Byron  collars,  and  unblackened 
boots  were  the  first  signs  of  literary  taste. 

"  You  think  I  dress  too  well,"  said  Humphreys  with  his 
ghastly  smirk.  "  You  think  that  I  care  too  much  for  appear- 
ances. I  do.  It  is  a  weakness  of  mine  which  comes  from  a 
residence  abroad." 

These  words  touched  the  Philosopher  a  little.  To  have  been 
abroad  was  the  next  best  thing  to  having  been  a  foreigner  db 
origine.  But  still  he  felt  a  little  suspicious.  He  was  superior 
to  the  popular  prejudice  against  the  mustache,  but  he  could  not 
endure  hair-oil.  "  Nature,"  he  maintained,  "  made  the  whole 
beard  to  be  worn,  and  Nature  provides  an  oil  for  the  hair.  Let 
Nature  have  her  way."  He  was  suspicious  of  Humphreys,  not 
because  he  .wore  a  mustache,  but  because  he  shaved  the  rest  of 
his  face  and  greased  his  hair.  He  had,  besides,  a  little  intui- 
tive perception  of  the  fact  that  a  smile  which  breaks  against  the 
rock-bound  coast  of  cold  cheek-bones  and  immovable  eyes  is  a 
mask.  And  so  he  determined  to  test  the  literary  man.  I  have 
heard  that  Masonic  lodges  have  been  deceived  by  impostors.  I 
have  never  heard  that  a  literary  man  was  made  to  believe  in 
the  genuineness  of  the  attainments  of  a  charlatan. 

And  yet  Humphreys  held  his  own  well.  He  could  talk  glibly 
and  superficially  about  books ;  he  simulated  considerable  enthu- 
siasm for  the  books  which  Andrew  admired.  His  mistake  and 
his  consequent  overthrow  came,  as  always  in  such  cases,  from 
a  desire  to  overdo.  It  was  after  half  an  hour  of  talking  without 
tripping  that  Andrew  suddenly  asked :  "  Do  you  like  the  ever- 
to-be-admired  Xenophanes?" 

It  certainly  is  no  disgrace  to  any  literary  man  not  to  know 
anything  of  so  remote  a  philosopher  as  Xenophanes.     The  first 


148  THE   END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

characteristic  of  a  genuine  literary  man  is  the  frankness  with 
which  he  confesses  his  ignorance.  But  Humphreys  did  not  really 
know  but  that  Xenophanes  was  part  of  the  daily  reading  of  a 
man  of  letters. 

"  Oh !  yes,"  said  he.    "  I  have  his  works  in  turkey  morocco." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  his  opinion  that  God  is  a  sphere  ?  " 
asked  the  Philosopher,  smiling. 

"  Oh  !  yes — ahem ;  let  me  see — which  God  is  it  that  he  speaks 
of,  Jupiter  or — well,  you  know  he  was  a  Greek." 

"  But  he  only  believed  in  one  God,"  said  Andrew  sternly. 

"  Oh  !  ah  !    I  forgot  that  he  was  a  Christian." 

So  from  blunder  to  blunder  Andrew  pushed  him,  Humphreys 
stumbling  more  and  more  in  his  blind  attempts  to  right  himself, 
and  leaving,  at  last,  with  much  internal  confusion  but«with  an  un- 
ruffled smile.  He  dared  not  broach  his  errand  by  asking  the 
address  of  August.  For  Andrew  did  not  conceal  his  disgust, 
having  resumed  work  at  his  loom,  suffering  the  bowing  impostor 
to  find  his  own  way  out  without  so  much  as  a  courteous  adieu. 


JONAS   EXPRESSES    HIS    OPINION    ON   DUTCHMEN.       149 


CHAPTER    XXII. 


JONAS    EXPRESSES    HIS    OPINION  TJN    DUTCHMEN. 


OMETIMES  the  virus  of  a  family  is  all  drawn  off 
in  one  vial.    I  think  it  is  Emerson  who  makes 
this  remark.    We  have  all  seen  the  vials. 

Such  an  one  was  Norman  Anderson.  The  curious 
law  of  hereditary  descent  had  somehow  worked  him 
only  evil.  "  Nater,"  observed  Jonas  to  Cynthy,  when  the  latter 
had  announced  to  him  that  Norman,  on  account  of  some  dis- 
grace at  school,  had  returned  home,  "  nater  ha'n't  done  him 
half  jestice,  I  'low.  It  went  through  Sam'el  Anderson  and 
Abig'il,  and  picked  out  the  leetle  weak  pompous  things  in 
the  illustrious  father,  and  then  hunted  out  all  the  spiteful  and 
hateful  things  in  the  lovin'  and  much-esteemed  mother,  and 
somehow  stuck  'em  together,  to  make  as  ornery  a  chap  as  ever 
bit  a  hoe-cake  in  two." 

"I'm  afeard  her  brother's  scrape  and  comin'  home  won't 
make  Jule  none  the  peacefuller  at  the  present  time,"  said  Cynthy 
Ann. 

"  Wal,"  returned  Jonas,  "  I  don't  think  she  keers  much  fer 
him.  She  couldn't,  you  know.  Love  him?  Now,  Cynthy 
Ann,  my  dear" — here  Cynthy  Ann  began   to   reproach  herself 


150  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

for  listening  to  anything  so  pleasant  as  these  two  last  words — 
"  Now,  Cynthy  Ann,  my  dear,  you  see  you  might  maybe  love 
a  cuckle-burr  and  nuss  it  ;  but  I  don't  think  you  would  be 
likely  to.  I  never  heern  tell  of  nobody  carryin'  jimson-weed 
pods  in  their  bosoms.  You  see  they  a'n't  no  place  about  Nor- 
man Anderson  that  love  could  take  a  holt  of  'thout  gittin' 
scratched." 

"But  his  mother  loves  him,  I  reckon,"  said  Cynthy  Ann. 

"  Wal,  yes ;  so  she  do.  Loves  her  shadder  in  the  lookin'-glass, 
maybe,  and  kinder  loves  Norman  bekase  he's  got  so  much  of 
her  devil  into  him.  It's  like  lovin'  like,  I  reckon.  But  I  'low 
they's  a  right  smart  difference  with  Jule.  Sence  she  was  bor.i, 
that  Norman  has  took  more  delight  in  tormentin'  Jule  than  a 
yaller  dog  with  a  white  tail  does  in  worryin'  a  brindle  tom-cat  up 
a  peach-tree.  And  comin'  home  at  this  junction  he'll  gin  her  a 
all-fired  lot  of  trials  and  tribulation." 

At  the  time  this  conversation  took  place,  two  weeks  had 
elapsed  since  Mrs.  Anderson's  "attack."  Julia  had  heard  noth- 
ing from  August  yet.  The  "  Hawk "  still  made  his  head-quar- 
ters in  the  house,  but  was  now  watching  another  quarry.  Mrs. 
Anderson  was  able  to  scold  as  vigorously  as  ever,  if,  indeed,  that 
function  had  ever  been  suspended.  And  just  now  she  was  en- 
gaged in  scolding  the  teacher  who  had  expelled  Norman.  The 
habit  of  fighting  teachers  was  as  chronic  as  her  heart-disease. 
Norman  had  always  been  abused  by  the  whole  race  of  peda- 
gogues. There  was  from  the  first  a  conspiracy  against  him,  and 
now  he  was  cheated  out  of  his  last  chance  of  getting  an  educa- 
tion.    All  this  Norman  steadfastly  believed. 

Of  course  Norman  sided  with  his  mother  as  against  the 
Dutchman.     The  more  contemptible  a  man  is,  the  more  he  con- 


JONAS    EXPRESSES    HIS    OPINION    ON    DUTCHMEN.       151 

tenuis  a  man  for  not  belonging  to  his  race  or  nation.  And  Nor- 
man felt  that  lie  would  be  eternally  disgraced  by  any  alliance 
with  a  German.  He  threw  himself  into  the  fight  with  a  great 
deal  of  vigor.     It  helped  him  to  forget  other  things. 

"  Jule,"  said  he,  walking  up  to  her  as  she  sat  alone  on  the 
porch,  "  I'm  ashamed  of  you.  To  go  and  fall  in  love  with  a 
Dutchman  like  Gus  "Wehle,  and  disgrace  us  all ! " 

"  I  wonder  you  didn't  think  about  disgrace  before,"  retorted 


NORMAN   ANDERSON. 


Julia      "  I  am  ashamed  to  have  August  "Wehle  hear  what  you've 
been  doing." 

Dogs  that  have  the  most  practice  in  cat-worrying  are  liable 
to  get  their  noses  scratched  sometimes.  Narmfin  took  care  never 
to  attack  Julia  again  except  under  the  gun  of  his  mother's  power- 
ful battery.     And  he  revenged  himself  rn  her  by  appealing  to 


152  THE    END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

his  mother  with  a  complaint  that  "  Jule  had  throwed  up  to  him 
that  he  had  been  dismissed  from  school."  And  of  course  Julia 
received  a  solemn  lecture  on  her  way  of  driving  poor  Norman  to 
destruction.  She  was  determined  to  disgrace  the  family.  If  she 
could  not  do  it  by  marrying  a  Dutchman,  she  would  do  it  by  slan- 
dering her  brother. 

Norman  thought  to  find  an  ally  in  Jonas. 

"  Jonas,  don't  you  think  it's  awful  that  Jule  is  in  love  with 
a  Dutchman  like  Gus  Wehle  ?  " 

"  I  do,  my  love,"  responded  Jonas.  "  I  think  a  Dutchman 
is  a  Dutchman.  I  don't  keer  how  much  he  larns  by  burnin' 
the  midnight  ile  by  day  and  night.  My  time-honored  friend, 
he's  a  Dutchman  arter  all.  The  Dutch  is  bred  in  the  bone.  It 
won't  fade.  A  Dutchman  may  be  a  gentleman  in  his  way  of 
doin'  things,  may  be  honest  and  industrious,  and  keep  all  the 
commandments  in  the  catalogue,  but  I  say  he  is  Dutch,  and 
that's  enough  to  keep  him  out  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  and 
out  of  this  free  and  enlightened  republic.  And  an  American 
may  be  a  good-fer-nothin',  omery  little  pertater-ball,  wuthless 
alike  to  man  and  beast ;  he  mayn't  be  good  fer  nothin',  nuther  fer 
work  nur  study ;  he  may  git  drunk  and  git  turned  outen  school 
and  do  any  pertikeler  number  of  disgraceful  and  oncreditable 
things,  he  may  be  a  reg'ler  milksop  and  nincompoop,  a  fool 
and  a  blackguard  and  a  coward  all  rolled  up  into  one  piece  of 
brown  paper,  ef  he  wants  to.  And  what's  to  hender  ?  A'n't  he  a 
free-born  an'  enlightened  citizen  of  this  glorious  and  civilized 
and  Christian  land  of  Hail  Columby  ?  What  business  has  a 
Dutchman,  ef  he's  ever  so  smart  and  honest  and  larned,  got 
in  our  broad  domains,  resarved  for  civil  and  religious  liberty? 
What  business  has  he  got  breathin'  our  atmosphere  or  takin' 


JONAS    EXPRESSES   HIS    OPINION    ON    DUTCHMEN.       153 

refuge  under  the  feathers  of  our  American  turkey-buzzard  ?  No, 
my  beloved  and  respected  feller-citizen  of  native  birth,  it's  as 
plain  to  me  as  the  wheels  of  'Zek'el  and  the  year  1843.  I  say, 
Hip,  hip,  hoo-ray  fer  liberty  or  death,  and  down  with  the 
Dutch ! " 

Norman  Anderson  scratched  his  head. 

What  did  Jonas  mean  ? 

He  couldn't  exactly  divine ;  but  it  is  safe  to  say  that  on  the 
whole  he  was  not  entirely  satisfied  with  this  boomerang  speech. 
He  rather  thought  that  he  had  better  not  depend  on  Jonas. 

But  he  was  not  long  in  finding  allies  enough  in  his  war 
against  Germany. 


154  THE   END   OF   THE   WOELD. 


CHAPTER    XXIH 


SOMETHIN'    LUDIKEROUS. 


^HERE  was  an  egg-supper  In  the  country  store  at 
Brayville.     Mr.   MandlufF,  the   tall   and   rawboned 


Hoosier  who  kept  the  store,  was  not  unwilling  to 
have  the  boys  get  up  an  egg  supper  now  and  then  in 
his  store  after  he  had  closed  the  front-door  at  night. 
For  you  must  know  that  an  egg-supper  is  a  peculiar  Western 
institution.  Sometimes  it  is  a  most  enjoyable  institution — when 
it  has  its  place  in  a  store  where  there  is  no  Kentucky  whisky 
to  be  had.  But  in  Brayville,  in  the  rather  miscellaneous  estab- 
lishment of  the  not  very  handsome  and  not  very  graceful  Mr. 
Mandluff,  an  egg-supper  was  not  a  great  moral  institution.  It 
was  otherwise,  and  profanely  called  by  its  votaries  a  camp- 
meeting  ;  it  would  be  hard  to  tell  why,  unless  it  was  that  some  of 
the  insiders  grew  very  happy  before  it  was  over.  For  an  egg- 
supper  at  Mandluff's  store  was  to  Brayville  what  an  oyster- 
supper  at  Delmonico's  is  to  New  York.  It  was  one  tenth  hard 
eggs  and  nine  tenths  that  beverage  which  bears  the  name  of  an 
old  royal  house  of  France. 

How  were  the  eggs  cooked?     I  knew  somebody  would  ask 
that  impertinent  question.     "Well,  they  were  not  fried,  they  were 


somethin'  ludikerotts.  155 

not  boiled,  they  were  not  poached,  they  were  not  scrambled,  they 
were  not  omeletted,  they  were  not  roasted  on  the  half-shell, 
they  were  not  stuffed  with  garlic  and  served  with  cranberries, 
they  were  not  boiled  and  served  with  anchovy  sauce,  they  were 
not  "  en  mlmV  I  think  I  had  better  stop  there,  lest  I  betray 
my  knowledge  of  cookery.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  they  were 
not  cooked  in  any  of  the  above-named  fashions,  nor  in  any  other 
way  mentioned  in  Catharine  Beecher's  or  Marion  Harland's  cook- 
books. They  were  baked  d  la  mode  backwoods.  It  is,  hardly 
proper  for  me  to  give  a  recipe  in  this  place,  that  belongs  more 
properly  to  the  "Household  Departments"  of  the  newspapers. 
But  to  satisfy  curiosity,  and  to  tell  something  about  cooking, 
which  Prof.  Blot  does  not  know,  I  may  say  that  they  were  broken 
and  dropped  on  a  piece  of  brown  paper  laid  on  the  top  of  the  old 
box-stove.  By  the  time  the  egg  was  cooked  hard  the  paper  was 
burned  to  ashes,  but  the  egg  came  off  clean  and  nice  from  the 
stove,  and  made  as  palatable  and  indigestible  an  article  for  a  late 
supper  as  one  could  wish.  It  only  wanted  the  addition  of  Mand- 
luffs  peculiar  whisky  to  make  it  dissipation  of  the  choicest 
kind.  For  the  more  a  dissipation  costs  in  life  and  health,  the 
more  fascinating  it  is. 

There  was  an  egg-supper,  as  I  said,  at  Mandluff  s  store.  There 
was  to  be  a  "camp-meeting"  in  honor  of  Norman  Anderson's 
successful  return  to  his  liberty  and  his  cronies.  It  gave  Norman 
the  greatest  pleasure  to  return  to  a  society  where  it  was  rather 
to  his  credit  than  otherwise  that  he  had  gone  on  a  big  old  time, 
got  caught,  and  been  sent  adrift  by  the  old  hunk  that  had  tried 
to  make  him  study  Latin. 

The  eggs  were  baked  in  the  true  "  camp-meeting "  style,  the 
whisky  was  drunk,  and — so  was  the  company.    Bill  Day's  rather 


156  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

red  eyes  grew  redder,  and  his  nose  shone  with  delight  as  he 
shuffled  the  greasy  pack  of  "  kyerds."  The  maudlin  smile  crossed 
the  habitually  melancholy  lines  of  his  face  in  a  way  that  split 
and  splintered  his  visage  into  a  curious  contradiction  of  emotions. 

"  H — a — oo — p ! "  he  shouted,  throwing  away  the  cards  over 
the  heads  of  his  companions.  "  Ha — oop !  boys,  thish  is  big — 
hoo !  hoo !  ha — oop !  I  say  is  big.     Let's  do  somethin' ! " 

Here  there  was  a  confused  cry  that  "  it  was  big,  and  that  they 
had  better  do  somethin'  or  'nother." 

"  Let's  blow  up  the  ole  school-house,"  said  Bill  Day,  who  was 
not  friendly  to  education. 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  said  Bob  Short,  who  was  dealing  the  cards 
in  another  set — "I  tell  you  what,"  and  Bob  winked  his  eyes  vig- 
orously, and  looked  more  solemn  and  wise  than  he  could  have 
looked  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  hard  eggs  and  the  whisky — 
"I  tell  you  what,"  said  Bob  a  third  time,  and  halted,  for  his 
mind's  activity  was  a  little  choked  by  the  fervor  of  his  emotions 
— "  I  tell  you  what,  boys " 

"Wal,"  piped  Jim  "West  in  a  cracked  voice,  "  you've  told  us 
what  four  times,  I  'low;  now  s'pose  you  tell  us  somethin'  else." 

"  I  tell  you  what,  boys,"  said  Bob  Short,  suddenly  remember- 
ing his  sentence,  "  don't  let's  do  nothin'  that'll  git  us  into  no 
trouble  arterwards.  Ef  we  blow  up  the  school-house  we'll  be 
'rested  fer  bigamy  or — or — what  d'ye  call  it  ?  " 

"For  larson,"  said  Bill  Day,  hardly  able  to  restrain  another 
whoop. 

"  No,  'taint  larson,"  said  Bob  Short,  looking  wiser  than  a 
chief-justice,  "  it's  arsony.  Now  I  say,  don't  let's  go  to  peniten- 
tiary for  no — no  larson — no  arsony,  I  mean." 

"  Ha — oop  !  "     said   Bill.     "  Let's   do    somethin'    ludikerous. 


SOMETHIN     LUDIKEROUS. 


157 


Hurrah    for    arsony     and    larson!      Dog-on    the    penitentiary  1 
Ha — oop ! " 

"  Let's  go  fer  the  Dutchman,"  said  Norman  Anderson,  just 
drunk  enough  to  be  good-naturedly  murderous  and  to  speak  in  dia- 


somethtn'  ludekebous. 

lect.  "  Gus  is  turned  out  to  conmiittin'  larson  by  breakin'  into  peo- 
ple's houses  an'  has  run  off.  Now  let's  tar  and  feather  the  ole 
one.    Of  course,  he's  a  thief.    Dutchmen  always  is,  I  'low.     Clark 


158  THE    END    OF   THE   WORLD- 

township  don't  want  none  of  'em,  I'll  be  dog-oned  if  it  do," 
and  Norman  got  up  and  struck  his  fist  on  the  counter. 

"  An'  they  won't  nobody  hurt  you ;  you  see,  he's  on'y  a 
Dutchman,"  said  Bob  Short.  "  Larson  on  a  Dutchman  don't 
hold." 

"I  say,  let's  hang  him,"  said  Bill  Day.  "Ha — oop!  Let's 
hang  him,  or  do  somethin'  else  ludikerous  ! " 

"  I  wouldn't  mind,"  grinned  Norman  Anderson,  delighted  at 
the  turn  things  had  taken.     "  I'd  just  like  to  see  him  hung." 

"  So  would  I,"  said  Bill  Day,  leaning  over  to  Norman.  "  Ef 
a  Dutchman  wash  •  to  court  my  sishter,  I'd " 

"  He'd  be  a  fool  ef  he  did,"  piped  Jim  "West.  For  Bill  Day's 
sister  was  a  "maid  not  vendible,"  as  Shakespeare  has  it. 

"  See  yer,"  said  Bill,  trying  in  vain  to  draw  his  coat.  "  Looky 
yer,  Jeems ;  ef  you  say  anythin'  agin  Ann  Marier,  I'll  commit 
the  wust  larson  on  you  you  ever  seed." 

"I  didn't  say  nothin'  agin  Ann  Marier,"  squeaked  Jim.  "I 
was  talkin'  agin  the  Dutch." 

"  Well,  that'sh  all  right.  Ha — oop  !  Boys,  let's  do  somethin', 
larson  or  arsony  or — somethin'." 

A  bucket  of  tar  and  some  feathers  were  bought,  for  which 
young  Anderson  was  made  to  pay,  and  Bill  Day  insisted  on 
buying  fifteen  feet  of  rope.  "Bekase,"  as  he  said,  "arter  you  git 
the  feathers  on  the  bird,  you  may — you  may  want  to  help  him  to 
go  to  roosht  you  know,  on  a  hickory  limb.  Ha — oop !  Come 
along,  boys ;  I  say  let's  do  somethin'  ludikerous,  ef  it's  nothin' 
but  a  little  larson." 

And  so  they  went  galloping  down  the  road,  nine  drunken 
fools.  For  it  is  one  of  the  beauties  of  lynch  law,  that,  however 
justifiable  it  may  seem  in  some  instances,  it  always  opens  the 


SOMETHIN'    LTTDIKEROU8.  159 

way  to  villainous  outrages.  Some  of  ray  readers  will  protest 
that  a  man  was  never  lynched  for  the  crime  of  being  a  Dutch- 
man. Which  only  shows  how  little  they  know  of  the  intense 
prejudice  and  lawless  violence  of  the  early  West.  Some  day 
people  will  not  believe  that  men  have  been  killed  in  California 
for  being  Chinamen. 

Of  the  nine  who  started,  one,  the  drunkest,  fell  off  and  broke 
his  arm;  the  rest  rode  up  in  front  of  the  cabin  of  Gottlieb "Wehle. 
I  do  not  want  to  tell  how  they  alarmed  the  mother  at  her 
late  sewing  and  dragged  Gottlieb  out  of  his  bed.  I  shudder 
now  when  I  recall  one  such  outrage  to  which  I  was  an  unwill- 
ing witness.  Norman  threw  the  rope  round  Gottlieb's  neck  and 
declared  for  hanging.  Bill  Day  agreed.  It  would  be  so  ludik- 
erous,  you  know! 

"  Vot  hash  I  tun  ?  Hey  ?  Vot  vor  you  dries  doo  hanks  me 
already,  hey  ?  "  cried  the  honest  German,  who  was  willing  enough 
to  have  the  end  of  the  world  come,  but  who  did  not  like  the  idea 
of  ascending  alone,  and  in  this  fashion. 

Mrs.  Wehle  pushed  her  way  into  the  mob  and  threw  the  rope 
off  her  husband's  neck,  and  began  to  talk  with  vehemence  in 
German.  For  a  moment  the  drunken  fellows  hung  back  out  of 
respect  for  a  woman.  Then  Bill  Day  was  suddenly  impressed 
with  the  fact  that  the  duty  of  persuading  Mrs.  Wehle  to  consent 
to  her  husband's  execution  devolved  upon  him. 

"  Take  keer,  boys ;  let  me  talk  to  the  ole  woman.  I'll  argy 
the  case." 

"  You  can't  speak  Dutch  no  more  nor  a  hoss  can,"  squeaked 
Jeems  West. 

"  Blam'd  ef  I  can't,  though.  Hyer,  ole  woman,  firshta 
Dutch?" 


160  THE   END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

"  Ya." 

"  Now,"  said  Bill,  turning  to  the  others  in  triumph,  "  what 
did  I  tell  you  ?      Well,  you  see,  your  boy  August  is  a  thief." 

"  He's  not  a  teef ! "  said  the  old  man. 

"  Shet  up  your  jaw.  I  say  he  is.  Now,  your  ole  man's  got 
to  be  hung." 

"  Vot  vor  ?  "  broke  in  Gottlieb. 

"Bekase  it's  all  your  own  fault.  You  hadn't  orter  be  a 
Dutchman." 

Here  the  crowd  fell  into  a  wrangle.  It  was  not  so  easy  to 
hang  a  man  when  such  a  woman  stood  there  pleading  for  him. 
Besides,  Bob  Short  insisted  that  hanging  was  arsony  in  the  first 
degree,  and  they  better  not  do  it.  To  this  Bill  Day  assented. 
He  said  he  'sposed  tar  and  feathers  was  only  larson  in  the 
second  degree.  And  then  it  would  be  rale  ludikerous.  And 
now  confused  cries  of  "  Bring  on  the  tar ! "  "  Where's  the  fea- 
thers ? "  "  Take  off  his  clothes ! "  began  to  be  raised.  Norman 
stood  out  for  hanging.  Drink  always  intensified  his  meanness. 
But  the  tar  couldn't  be  found.  The  man  whom  they  had  left 
lying  by  the  roadside  with  a  broken  arm  had  carried  the  tar, 
and  had  been  well  coated  with  it  himself  in  his  fall. 

"  Ha-oop  ! "  shouted  Bill  Day.  "  Let's  do  somethin'.  Dog-on 
the  arsony  !    Let's  hang  him  as  high  as  Dan'el." 

And  with  that  the  rope  was  thrown  over  Gottlieb's  neck  and 
he  was  hurried  off  to  the  nearest  tree.  The  rope  was  then  put 
over  a  limb,  and  a  drunken  half-dozen  got  ready  to  pull,  while 
Norman  Anderson  adjusted  the  noose  and  valiant  Bill  Day  un- 
dertook to  keep  off  Mrs.  Wehle. 

"  All  ready !  Pull  up  !  Ha-oop  ! "  shouted  Bill  Day,  and  the 
crowd  pulled,  but  Mrs.  Wehle  had  slipped  off  the  noose  again, 


somethin'  ludikerous.  161 

and  the  volunteer  executioners  fell  over  one  another  in  such  a 
way  as  to  excite  the  derisive  laughter  of  Bill  Day,  who  thought 
it  perfectly  ludikerous.  But  before  the  laugh  had  finished, 
the  iudignaut  Gottlieb  had  knocked  Bill  Day  over  and  sent 
Norman  after  him.  The  blow  sobered  them  a  little,  and  sud- 
denly destroyed  Bill's  ambition  to  commit  "  arsony,"  or  do  any- 
thing else  ludikerous.  But  Norman  was  furious,  and  under 
his  lead  Wehle's  arms  were  now  bound  with  the  rope  and  a  con- 
sultation was  held,  during  which  little  Wilhelmina  pleaded  for 
her  father  effectively*  and  more  by  her  tears  and  cries  and  the 
wringing  of  her  chubby  hands  than  by  any  words.  Bill  Day  said 
he  be  blamed  ef  that  little  Dutch  gal's  takin'  on  so  didn't  kinder 
make  him  feel  sorter  scrimpshous  you  know.  But  the  mob  could 
not  quit  without  doing  something.  So  it  was  resolved  to  give 
Gottlieb  a  good  ducking  in  the  river  and  send  him  into  Kentucky 
with  a  warning  not  to  come  back.  They  went  down  the  ravine 
past  Andrew's  castle  to  the  river.  Mrs.  Wehle  followed,  believ- 
ing that  her  husband  would  be  drowned,  and  little  Wilhelmina 
ran  and  pulled  the  alarm  and  awakened  the  Backwoods  Phi- 
losopher, who  soon  threw  himself  among  them,  but  too  late  to 
dissuade  them  from  their  purpose,  for  Andrew's  own  skiff,  the 
"  Grisilde "  by  name,  with  three  of  the  soberest  of  the  party, 
had  already  set  out  to  convey  Wehle,  after  one  hasty  immersion, 
to  the  other  shore,  while  the  rest  stood  round  hallooing  like  mad- 
men to  prevent  any  alarm  that  Wehle  might  raise  attracting  at- 
tention on  the  other  side. 


162  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

THE   GIANT   GREAT-HEART. 

'<<f)^  S  soon  as  Andrew's  skiff,"  the  "  Grisilde,"   was 
brought  back  and  the  ruffians  had  gone  off  up  the 
ravine,  Andrew  left  Mrs.  Wehle  sitting  by  the  fire 
*J*      in  the  loom-room  of  the   castle,  while  he  crossed 
V^  the  river  to  look  after  Gottlieb.     Little  Wilhelmina 

insisted  on  going  with  him,  and  as  she  handled  a  steering-oar 
well  he  took  her  along.  They  found  Gottlieb  with  his  arms 
cruelly  pinioned  sitting  on  a  log  in  a  state  of  utter  dejection, 
and  dripping  with  water  from  his  ducking. 

"Ich  zay,  Antroo,  ish  dish  vat  dey  galls  a  vree  goontry, 
already  ?  A  blace  vare  troonk  shcounders  dosh  vot  ever  dey 
hadn't  ort !  Dat  is  vree  koontry.  Mein  knabe  ish  roon  off  ver 
liebin  a  Yangee;  unt  a  vool  he  ish,  doo.  Unt  ich  ish  hoong 
unt  troundt  unt  darrdt  unt  vedderd  unt  drakt  out  indoo  de  rib- 
ber,  unt  dolt  if  I  ko  back  do  mein  vrau  unt  kinder  I  zhall  pe  kilt 
vunst  more  already.  Unt  I  shpose  if  ich  shtays  here  der  Gain- 
duckee  beobles  vill  hang  me  unt  dar  me  unt  trown  me  all  over 
in  der  ribber,  doo,  already,  pekoz  I  ish  Deutsch.  Ich  zay  de  voorld 
ish  all  pad,  unt  it  aud  doo  pe  vinished  vunst  already,  I  ton't  gare 
how  quick,  so  ash  dem  droonk  vools  kit  vot  pelongs  doo  'em 
venever  Gabrel  ploes  his  drumbet." 


THE    GIANT   GRBAT-HBAKT.  165 

"  They'll  get  that  in  due  time,  my  friend,"  said  Andrew,  un- 
tying the  rope  with  which  Gottlieb  had  been  pinioned.  ■  Come, 
let  us  go  back  to  our  own  shore." 

"  Bud  daint  my  zhore  no  more.  Dey  said  I'd  god  doo  hang 
again  vunst  more  if  I  ever  grossed  de  Ohio  Ribber  vunst  again  al- 
ready, but  I  ton't  vants  doo  hang  no  more  vor  noddin  already." 

"  But  I'll  take  care  of  that,"  said  Andrew.  "  Before  to-morrow 
night  I'll  make  your  house  the  safest  place  in  Clark  township. 
I've  got  the  rascals  by  the  throat  now.     Trust  me." 

It  took  much  entreaty  on  the  part  of  Andrew  and  much 
weeping  and  kissing  on  the  part  of  Wilhelmina  to  move  the  heart 
of  the  terrified  Gottlieb.  At  last  he  got  into  the  skiff  and  allowed 
himself  to  be  rowed  back  again,  declaring  all  the  way  that  he 
nebber  zee  no  zich  a  vree  koontry  ash  dish  voz  already. 

When  Bill  Day  and  his  comrades  got  up  the  next  morning 
and  began  to  think  of  the  transactions  of  the  night,  they  did  not 
seem  nearly  so  ludikerous  as  they  had  at  the  time.  And  when 
Norman  Anderson  and  Bill  Day  and  Bob  Short  read  the  notice 
on  the  door  of  Mandluffs  store  they  felt  that  "  arsony "  might 
have  a  serious  as  well  as  a  ludikerous  side. 

Andrew  at  first  intended  to  institute  proceedings  against  the 
rioters,  but  he  knew  that  the  law  was  very  uncertain  against 
the  influences  which  the  eight  or  nine  young  men  might  bring  to 
bear,  and  the  prejudices  of  the  people  against  the  Dutch.  To 
prosecute  would  be  to  provoke  another  riot.  So  he  contented 
himself  with  this 

u  Proclamation  ! 

"  To  whom  it  mat  concern  :  I  have  a  list  of  eight  men  connected 
with  the  riotous  mob  which  broke  into  the  house  of  Gottlieb  Wehle,  a 
peaceable  and  unoffending  citizen  of  the  United  States.    The  said  eight 


166  THE    END    OF    THE    WOKLD. 

men  proceeded  to  commit  an  assault  and  battery  on  the  person  of  the 
said  Gottlieb  Wehle,  and  even  endeavored  at  one  time  to  take  his  life. 
And  the  said  riotous  conduct  was  the  result  of  a  conspiracy,  and  the 
said  assault  with  intent  to  kill  was  with  malice  aforethought.  The  said 
eight  men,  aftei  having  committed  grievous  outrages  upon  him  by 
dipping  him  in  the  water  and  by  other  means,  warned  the  said  Wehle 
not  to  return  to  the  State.  Now,  therefore,  I  give  notice  to  all 
and  several  of  those  concerned  in  these  criminal  proceedings  that 
the  said  Wehle  has  returned  by  my  advice ;  and  that  if  so  much  as  a 
hair  of  his  head  or  a  splinter  of  his  property  is  touched  I  will  appear 
against  said  parties  and  will  prosecute  them  until  I  secure  the  inflic- 
tion of  the  severest  penalties  made  and  provided  for  the  punishment 
of  such  infamous  crimes.  I  hope  I  am  well  enough  known  here  to 
render  it  certain  that  if  I  once  begin  proceedings  nothing  but  success 
or  my  death  or  the  end  of  the  world  can  stop  them. 

"  Andrbw  Anderson, 
"  Backwoods  Philosopher. 
"At  the  Castle,  May  12th,  1843." 

"  It  don't  look  so  ludikerous  as  it  did,  does  it,  Bill  ?  "  squeaked 
Jim  West,  as  he  read  the  notice  over  Bill's  shoulder. 

"  Shet  your  mouth,  you  fool ! "  said  Bill.  "  Don't  you  never 
peep.  Ef  I'd  a  been  sober  I  might  a  knowed  ole  Grizzly  would 
interfere.     He  always  does." 

In  truth,  Andrew  was  a  sort  of  Perpetual  Champion  of  the 
Oppressed,  and  those  who  did  not  like  him  feared  him,  which  is 
the  next  best  thing. 


A    CHAPTER    OF    BETWEENS. 


167 


CHAPTER    XXV. 


A    CHAPTER    OF    BETWEENS. 


D 

ID  you  ever  move?     And,  in  moving,  did  you 

ever  happen  to  notice  how  many  little  things  there 
are  to  be  picked  up?  Now  that  I  am  about  to 
shift  the  scene  of  my  story  from  Clark  township, 
the  narrow  stage  upon  which  it  has  progressed 
through  two  dozen  chapters,  I  find  a  great  number  of  little 
things  to  be  picked  up. 

One  of  the  little  things  to  be  picked  up  is  Norman  Ander- 
son. Very  little,  if  measured  soul-wise.  When  his  father  had 
read  the  proclamation  of  Andrew  and  divined  that  Norman 
was  interested  in  the  riot,  he  became  thoroughly  indignant ;  the 
more  so,  that  he  felt  his  own  lack  of  power  to  do  anything 
in  the  premises  against  his  wife.  But  when  Mrs.  Abigail 
heard  of  the  case  she  was  in  genuine  distress.  It  showed 
Andrew's  vindictiveness.  He  would  follow  her  forever  with  his 
resentments,  just  because  she  could  not  love  him.  It  was  not  her 
fault  that  she  did  not  love  him.  Poor  Norman  had  to  suffer  all 
the  persecutions  that  usually  fall  to  such  innocent  creatures. 
She    must    send  him    away  from    home,  though   it    broke  her 


168  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

mother's  heart  to  do  it ;  for  if  Andrew  didn't  have  him  took  up, 
the  old  Dutchman  would,  just  because  his  son  had  turned  out  a 
burglar.  She  said  burglar  rather  emphatically,  with  a  look  at 
Julia. 

And  so  Samuel  Anderson  took  his  son  to  Louisville,  and  got 
him  a  place  in  a  commission  and  produce  house  on  the  levee, 
with  which  Mr.  Anderson  had  business  influence.  And  Samuel 
warned  him  that  he  must  do  his  best,  for  he  could  not  come 
back  home  now  without  danger  of  arrest,  and  Norman  made 
many  promises  of  amendment ;  so  many,  that  his  future  seemed 
to  him  barren  of  all  delight.  And,  by  way  of  encouraging  him- 
self in  the  austere  life  upon  which  he  had  resolved  to  enter,  he 
attended  the  least  reputable  place  of  amusement  in  the  city,  the 
first  night  after  his  father's  departure. 

In  Clark  township  the  Millerite  excitement  was  at  white  heat. 
Some  of  the  preachers  in  other  parts  of  the  country  had  set  one 
day,  some  another.  I  believe  that  Mr.  Miller,  the  founder,  never 
had  the  temerity  to  set  a  day.  But  his  followers  figured  the 
thing  more  closely,  and  Elder  Hankins  had  put  a  fine  point 
on  the  matter.  He  was  certain,  for  his  part,  that  the  time  was 
at  midnight  on  the  eleventh  of  August.  His  followers  became 
very  zealous,  and  such  is  the  nature  of  an  infection  that  scarcely 
anybody  was  able  to  resist  it.  Mrs.  Anderson,  true  to  her  exci- 
table temper,  became  fanatic  —  dreaming  dreams,  seeing  visions, 
hearing  voices,  praying  twenty  times  a  day*  wearing  a  sourly 
pious  face,  and  making  all  around  her  more  unhappy  than  ever. 


*  Mrs.  Anderson  was  less  devout  than  some  of  her  co-religionists;  the 
wife  of  a  well-known  steamboat-clerk  was  accustomed  to  pray  in  private  fifty- 
times  a  day,  hoping  by  means  of  this  praying  without  ceasing  to  be  found  ready 
when  the  trumpet  should  sound. 


A    CHAPTER    OF    BETWBENS.  169 

Jonas  declared  thai  ef  the  noo  airth  and  the  noo  heaven  was 
to  be  chockful  of  sech  as  she,  'most  any  other  place  in  the 
univarse  would  be  better,  akordin'  to  his  way  of  thinkin'.  He 
said  she  repented  more  of  other  folkses'  sins  than  anybody  he 
ever  seed. 

As  summer  came  on,  Samuel  Anderson,  borne  away  on  the 
tide  of  his  own  and  his  wife's  fanatical  fever  of  sublimated 
devotion,  discharged  Jonas  and  all  his  other  employes,  threw  up 
business,  and  gave  his  whole  attention  to  the  straightening  of 
his  accounts  for  the  coming  day  of  judgment.  Before  Jonas 
left  to  seek  a  new  place  he  told  Cynthy  Ann  as  how  as  ef  he'd 
a  met  her  airlier  'twould  a-settled  his  coffee  fer  life.  He  was  git- 
tin'  along  into  the  middle  of  the  week  now,  but  he'd  come  to 
feel  like  a  boy  sence  he'd  been  a  livin'  where  he  could  have  a 
few  sweet  and  pleasant  words — ahem  ! — he  thought  December'd 
be  as  pleasant  as  May  all  the  year  round  ef  he  could  live  in  the 
aurora  borealis  of  her  countenance.  And  Cynthy  Ann  enjoyed 
his  words  so  much  that  she  prayed  for  forgiveness  for  the  next 
week  and  confessed  in  class-meeting  that  she  had  yielded  to 
temptation  and  sot  her  heart  on  the  things  of  this  perishin' 
world.  She  was  afeared  she  hadn't  always  remembered  as  how 
as  she  was  a  poor  unworthy  dyin'  worm  of  the  dust,  and  that 
all  the  beautiful  things  in  this  world  perished  with  the  usin'. 

And  Brother  Goshorn,  the  class-leader  at  Harden's  Cross- 
Roads,  exhorted  her  to  tear  every  idol  from  her  heart.  And 
still  the  sweet  woman's  nature,  God's  divine  law  revealed  in  her 
heart,  did  assert  itself  a  little.  She  planted  some  pretty-by-nights 
in  an  old  cracked  blue-and- white  tea-pot  and  set  it  on  her  win- 
dow-sill. Somehow  the  pretty-by-nights  would  remind  her  of 
Jonas,  and  while  she  tried  to  forget  him  with  one  half  of  her 


170  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

nature,  the  other  and  better  part  (the  depraved  part,  she  would 
have  told  you)  cherished  the  memory  of  his  smallest  act  and 
Awd.  In  fact,  the  flowers  had  no  association  with  Jonas  except 
that  along  with  the  awakening  of  her  love  came  this  little  sen- 
timent for  flowers  into  the  dry  desert  of  her  life.  But  one  day 
Mrs.  Anderson  discovered  the  old  blue  broken  tea-pot  with  its 
young  plants. 

"  "Why,  Cynthy  Ann ! "  she  cried,  "  a  body'd  think  you'd  have 
more  sense  than  to  do  such  a  soft  thing  as  to  be  raisin'  posies  at 
your  time  of  life !  And  that  when  the  world  is  drawing  to  a 
close,  too  !  You'll  be  one  of  the  foolish  virgins  with  no  oil  to 
your  lamp,  as  sure  as  you  see  that  day." 

As  for  Julia's  flowers,  Mrs.  Anderson  had  rudely  thrown 
them  into  the  road  by  way  of  removing  temptation  from  her  and 
turning  her  thoughts  toward  the  awful  realities  of  the  close  of 
time. 

But  Cynthy  Ann  blushed  and  repented,  and  kept  her  broken 
tea-pot,  with  a  fearful  sense  of  sin  in  doing  so.  She  never  wa- 
tered the  pretty-by-nights  without  the  feeling  that  she  was  offer- 
ing sacrifice  to  an  idol. 


A   NICE   LITTLE  GAME. 


171 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 


A    NICE     LITTLE     GAME 


;.jST  was  natural  enough  that  the  "mud-clerk"  on 
the  old  steamboat  Iatan  should  take  a  fancy  to 
the  "  striker,"  as  the  engineer's  apprentice  was  called. 
Especially  since  the  striker  knew  so  much  more  than 
the  mud-clerk,  and  was  able  to  advise  him  about  many 
things.  A  striker  with  so  much  general  information  was  rather 
a  novelty,  and  all  the  officers  fancied  him,  except  Sam  Munson, 
the  second  engineer,  who  had  a  natural  jealousy  of  a  striker  that 
knew  more  than  he  did. 

The  striker  had  learned  rapidly,  and  was  trusted  to  stand  a 
regular  watch.  The  first  engineer  and  the  third  were  together, 
and  the  second  engineer  and  the  striker  took  the  other  watch. 
The  boat  in  this  way  got  the  services  of  a  competent  engineer 
while  paying  him  only  a  striker's  wage. 

About  the  time  the  heavily-laden  Iatan  turned  out  of  the 
Mississippi  into  the  Ohio  at  Cairo  at  six  in  the  evening,  the  striker 
went  off  watch,  and  he  ought  to  have  gone  to  bed  to  prepare  him- 
self for  the  second  watch  of  the  night,  especially  as  he  would 
only  have  the  dog-watch  between  that  and  the  forenoon.  But 
a  passenger  had  got  aboard   at  Cairo,  whose  face  was  familiar. 


172  THE   END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

The  sight  of  it  had  aroused  a  throng  of  old  associations,  pleasant 
and  unpleasant,  and  a  throng  of-emotions  the  most  tender  and 
the  most  wrathful  the  striker  had  ever  felt.  Sleep  he  could 
not,  and  so,  knowing  that  the  mud-clerk  was  on  watch,  he  sought 
the  office  after  nine  o'clock,  and  stood  outside  the  bar  talking 
to  his  friend,  who  had  little  to  do,  since  most  of  the  freight  had 
been  shipped  through,  and  his  bills  for  Paducah  were  all  ready. 
The  striker  talked  with  the  mud-clerk,  but  watched  the  throng  of 
passengers  who  drank  with  each  other  at  the  bar,  smoked  in  the 
"  social  hall,"  read  and  wrote  at  the  tables  in  the  gentlemen's 
cabin,  or  sat  with  doffed  hats  and  chatted  gallantly  in  the  ladies' 
cabin,  which  was  visible  as  a  distant  background,  seen  over  a 
long  row  of  tables  with  green  covers  and  under  a  long  row  of 
gilded  wooden  stalactites,  which  were  intended  to  be  ornamental. 
The  little  pendent  prisms  beneath  the  chandeliers  rattled  gayly 
as  the  boat  trembled  at  each  stroke  of  her  wheels,  and  gaping 
backwoodsmen,  abroad  for  the  first  time,  looked  at  all  the  rusty 
gingerbread-work,  and  wondered  if  kings  were  able  to  afford  any- 
thing half  so  fine  as  the  cabin  of  the  "  palatial  steamer  Iatan," 
as  she  was  described  on  the  bills.  The  confused  murmur  of 
many  voices,  mixed  with  the  merry  tinkling  of  the  glass  pen- 
dants, gave  the  whole  an  air  of  excitement. 

But  the  striker  did  not  see  the  man  he  was  looking  for. 

"Who  got  on  at  Cairo?  I  think  I  saw  a  man  from  our  part 
of  the  country,"  he  said. 

"  I  declare,  I  don't  know,"  said  the  mud-clerk,  who  drawled 
his  words  in  a  cold-blooded  way.  "  Let  me  look.  Here's  A.  Rob- 
ertson, and  T.  Le  Fevre,  and  L.  B.  Sykes,  and  N.  Anderson." 

"  Where  is  Anderson  going  ? " 

"Paid  through  to  Louisville.     Do  you  know  him?" 


A    NICE    LITTLE    GAME.  173 

But  just  then  Norman  Anderson  himself  walked  in,  and 
went  up  to  the  bar  with  a  new  acquaintance.  They  did  not 
smoke  the  pipe  of  peace,  like  red  Americans,  but,  like  white 
Americans,  they  had  a  mysterious  liquid  carefully  compounded, 
and  by  swallowing  this  they  solemnly  sealed  their  new-made 
friendship  after  the  curious  and  unexplained  rite  in  use  among 
their  people. 

Norman  had  been  dispatched  on  a  collecting  trip,  and  having 
nine  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  in  his  pocket,  he  felt  as  much 
elated  as  if  it  had  been  his  own  money.  The  gentleman  with 
whom  he  drank,  had  a  band  of  crape  around  his  white  hat. 
He  seemed  very  near-sighted. 

"  If  that  greeny  is  a  friend  of  yours,  Gus,  I  declare  you'd 
better  tell  him  not  to  tie  to  the  serious-looking  young  fellow  in 
the  white  hat  and  gold  specs,  unless  he  means  to  part  with  all 
his  loose  change  before  bed-time." 

That  is  what  the  mud-clerk  drawled  to  August  the  striker, 
but  the  striker  seemed  to  hear  the  words  as  something  spoken 
afar  off.  For  just  then  he  was  seeing  a  vision  of  a  drunken  mob, 
and  a  rope,  and  a  pleading  woman,  and  a  brave  old  man 
threatened  with  death.  Just  then  he  heard  harsh  and  mud- 
dled voices,  rude  oaths,  and  jeering  laughter,  and  above  it  all 
the  sweet  pleading  of  a  little  girl  begging  for  a  father's  life. 
And  the  quick  blood  came  into  his  fair  German  face,  and  he 
felt  that  he  could  not  save  this  Norman  Anderson  from  the 
toils  of  the  gambler,  though  he  might,  if  provoked,  pitch  him 
over  the  guard  of  the  boat.  For  was  not  Andrew's  letter,  which 
described  the  mob,  in  his  pocket,  and  burning  a  hole  in  his 
pocket   as   it    had    been   ever   since    he   received  it? 

But  then  this  was  Julia's  brother,  and  there  was  nothing  he 


174  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

would  not  do  for  Julia.  So,  sometime  after  the  mud-clerk  had 
ceased  to  speak,  the  striker  gave  utterance  to  both  impulses  by 
replying,  "  He's  no  friend  of  mine,"  a  little  crisply,  and  then 
softly  adding,   "  Though  I  shouldn't  like  to  see  him  fleeced." 

By  this  time  a  new  actor  had  appeared  on  the  scene  in  the 
person  of  a  man  with  a  black  mustache  and  side- whiskers,  who 
took  a  seat  behind  a  card-table  near  the  bar. 

"  H'llo  !  "  said  the  mud-clerk  in  a  low  and  lazy  voice,  "  Par- 
kins is  back  again.  After  his  scrape  at  Paducah  last  February, 
he  disappeared,  and  he's  been  shady  ever  since.  He's  growed 
whiskers  since,  so's  not  to  be  recognized.  But  he'll  be  skeerce 
enough  when  we  get  to  Paducah.  Now,  see  how  quick  he'll 
catch  the  greenies,  won't  you  ?  "  The  prospect  was  so  charming 
as  almost  to  stimulate  the  mud-clerk  to  speak  with  some  ani- 
mation. 

But  August  Wehle,  the  striker  on  the  Iatan,  had  an  uncom- 
fortable feeling  that  he  had  seen  that  face  before,  and  that  the 
long  mustache  and  side-whiskers  had  grown  in  a  remark- 
ably short  space  of  time.  Could  it  be  that  there  were  two  men 
who  could  spread  a  smile  over  the  lower  half  of  their  faces  in 
that  automatic  way,  while  the  spider-eyes  had  no  sort  of  sym- 
pathy with  it  ?  Surely,  this  man  with  black  whiskers  and  mus- 
tache was  not  just  like  the  singing-master  at  Sugar-Grove  school- 
house,  who  had  "  red-top  hay  on  to  his  upper  lip,"  and  yet — and 
yet 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Parkins — his  Dickensian  name  would  be 
Smirkins — "  I  want  to  play  a  little  game  just  for  the  fun  of  the 
thing.  It  is  a  trick  with  three  cards.  I  put  down  three  cards, 
face  up.  Here  is  six  of  diamonds,  eight  of  spades,  and  the  ace 
of  hearts.      Now,  I  will  turn  them  over  so  quickly  that  I  will 


A    NICE    LITTLE    GAME.  177 

defy  any  of  you  to  tell  which  is  the  ace.  Do  you  see  ?  Now,  I 
would  like  to  bet  the  wine  for  the  company  that  no  gentleman 
here  can  turn  up  the  ace.  All  I  want  is  a  little  sport.  Something 
to  pass  away  the  evening  and  amuse  the  company.  Who  will 
bet  the  wine  ?  The  Scripture  says  that  the  hand  is  quicker  than 
the  eye,  and  I  warn  you  that  if  you  bet,  you  will  probably  lose." 
And  here  he  turned  the  cards  back,  with  their  faces  up,  and  the 
card  which  everybody  felt  sure  was  the  ace  proved  apparently 
to  be  that  card.  Most  of  the  on-lookers  regretted  that  they  had 
not  bet,  seeing  that  they  would  certainly  have  won.  Again  the 
cards  were  put  face  down,  and  the  company  was  bantered  to 
bet  the  wine.    Nobody  would  bet. 

After  a  good  deal  of  fluent  talk,  and  much  dexterous  hand- 
ling of  the  cards,  in  a  way  that  seemed  clear  enough  to 
everybody,  and  that  showed  that  everybody's  guess  was  right  as 
to  the  place  of  the  ace,  the  near-sighted  gentleman,  who  had 
drunk  with  Norman,  offered  to  bet  five  dollars. 

"  Five  dollars  ! "  returned  Parkins,  laughing  in  derision,  "  five 
dollars  !  Do  you  think  I'm  a  gambler  ?  I  don't  want  any  gen- 
tleman's money.  I've  got  all  the  money  I  need.  However, 
if  you  would  like  to  bet  the  wine  with  me,  I  am  agreed." 

The  near-sighted  gentleman  declined  to  wager  anything  but 
just  the  five  dollars,  and  Parkins  spurned  his  proposition  with 
the  scorn  of  a  gentleman  who  would  on  no  account  bet  a  cent  of 
money.  But  he  grew  excited,  and  bantered  the  whole  crowd. 
Was  there  no  gentleman  in  the  crowd  who  would  lay  a  wager 
of  wine  for  the  company  on  this  interesting  little  trick  ?  It  was 
strange  to  him  that  no  gentleman  had  spirit  enough  to  make  the 
bet.  But  no  gentleman  had  spirit  enough  to  bet  the  wine.  Evi- 
dently there  were  no  gentlemen  in  the  company. 


178  THE    END    OF    THE    WOKLB. 

However,  the  near-sighted  man  with  the  white  hat  adorned 
with  crape  now  proposed  in  a  crusty  tone  to  bet  ten  dollars  that 
he  could  lift  the  ace.  He  even  took  out  a  ten-dollar  bill,  and, 
after  examining  it,  in  holding  it  close  to  his  nose  as  a  penurious 
man  might,  extended  his  hand  with,  "  If  you're  in  earnest,  let's 
know  it.     I'll  bet  you  ten." 

At  this  Parkins  grew  furious.  He  had  never  been  so  persist- 
ently badgered  in  all  his  life.  He'd  have  the  gentleman  know 
that  he  was  not  a  gambler.  He  had  all  the  money  he  wanted, 
and  as  for  betting  ten  dollars,  he  shouldn't  think  of  it.  But  now 
that  the  gentleman — he  said  gentleman  with  an  emphasis — now 
that  the  gentleman  seemed  determined  to  bet  money,  he  would 
show  him  that  he  was  not  to  be  backed  down.  If  the  young 
man  would  like  to  wager  a  hundred  dollars,  he  would  cheerfully 
bet  with  him.  If  the  gentleman  did  not  feel  able  to  bet  a  hun- 
dred dollars,  he  hoped  he  would  not  say  any  more  about  it.  He 
hadn't  intended  to  bet  money  at  all.  But  he  wouldn't  bet  less 
than  a  hundred  dollars  with  anybody.  A  man  who  couldn't 
afford  to  lose  a  hundred  dollars,  ought  not  to  bet. 

"  Who  is  this  fellow  in  the  white  hat  with  spectacles  ? " 
August  asked  of  the  mud-clerk. 

"That  is  Smith,  Parkins's  partner.  He  is  only  splurging 
round  to  start  up  the  greenies."  And  the  mud-clerk  spoke  with 
an  indifference  and  yet  a  sort  of  dilettante  interest  in  the  game 
that  shocked  his  friend,  the  striker. 

"Why  don't  they  set  these  blacklegs  ashore?"  said  August, 
whose  love  of  justice  was  strong. 

"  You  tell,"  drawled  the  mud-clerk.  "  The  first  clerk's  tried  it, 
but  the  old  man  protects  'e,m,  and"  (in  a  whisper)  "get's  his 
share,  I  guess.    He  can  set  them  off  whenever  he  wants  to."    (I 


A    JfICK    IJTTI.K    GAME.  179 

must  expiain  that  there  is  only  one  "  old  man  "  on  a  steamboat — 
that  is,  the  captain.) 

By  this  time  Parkins  had  turned  and  thrown  his  cards  so  that 
everybody  knew  or  thought  he  knew  where  the  ace  was.  Smith, 
the  man  with  the  white  hat,  now  rose  five  dollars  more  and 
offered  to  bet  fifteen.  But  Parkins  was  more  indignant  than  ever. 
He  told  Smith  to  go  away.  He  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket 
and  drew  out  a  handful  of  twenty-dollar  gold-pieces.  "  If  any 
gentleman  wants  to  bet  a  hundred  dollars,  let  him  come  on. 
A  man  who  couldn't  lose  a  hundred  would   better  keep  still." 

Smith  now  made  a  big  jump.  He'd  go  fifty.  Parkins 
wouldn't  listen  to  fifty.  He  had  said  that  he  wouldn't  bet  less 
than  a  hundred,  and  he  wouldn't.  He  now  pulled  out  handful 
after  handful  of  gold,  and  piled  the  double-eagles  up  like  a  forti- 
fication in  front  of  him,  while  the  crowd  surged  with  excitement. 

At  last  Mr.  Smith,  the  near-sighted  gentleman  in  spectacles, 
the  gentleman  who  wore  black  crape  on  a  white  hat,  con- 
cluded to  bet  a  hundred  dollars.  He  took  out  his  little  porte- 
monnaie  and  lifted  thence  a  hundred-dollar  bill. 

"  Well,"  said  he  angrily,  "  I'll  bet  you  a  hundred."  And  he 
laid  down  the  bill.  Parkins  piled  five  twenty-dollar  gold-pieces 
atop  it.  Each  man  felt  that  he  could  lift  the  ace  in  a  moment. 
That  card  at  the  dealer's  right  was  certainly  the  ace.  Norman  was 
sure  of  it.  He  wished  it  had  been  his  wager  instead  of  Smith's. 
But  Parkins  stopped  Smith  a  moment. 

"  Now,  young  man,"  he  said,  "  if  you  don't  feel  perfectly  able 
to  lose  that  hundred  dollars,  you'd  better  take  it  back." 

"  I  am  just  as  able  to  lose  it  as  you  are,"  said  Smith  snap- 
pishly, and  to  everybody's  disappointment  he  lifted  not  the  card 
everybody  had  fixed  on,  but  the  middle  one^  and  so  lost  his  money* 


180  THE    END    OP   THE    WORLD. 

"  Why  didn't  you  take  the  other  ?  "  said  Norman  boastfully. 
"  I  knew  it  was  the  ace." 

"  Why  didn't  you  bet,  then  ? "  said  Smith,  grinning  a  little. 
Norman  wished  he  had.  But  he  had  not  a  hundred  dollars  of 
his  own,  and  he  had  scruples — faint,  and  yet  scruples,  or  rather 
alarms — at  the  thought  of  risking  his  employer's  money  on  a 
wager.  While  he  was  weighing  motive  against  motive,  Smith 
bet  again,  and  again,  to  Norman's  vexation,  selected  a  card  that 
was  so  obviously  wrong  that  Norman  thought  it  a  pity  that  so 
near-sighted  a  man  should  bet  and  lose.  He  wished  he  had 
a  hundred  dollars  of  his  own  and There,  Smith  was  bet- 
ting again.  This  time  he  consulted  Norman  before  making  his 
selection,  and  of  course  turned  up  the  right  card,  remarking  that 
he  wished  his  eyes  were  so  keen!  He  would  win  a  thousand 
dollars  before  bed-time  if  his  eyes  were  so  good !  Then  he  took 
Norman  into  partnership,  and  Norman  found  himself  suddenly  in 
possession  of  fifty  dollars,  gotten  without  trouble.  This  turned 
his  brain.  Nothing  is  so  intoxicating  to  a  weak  man  as  money 
acquired  without  toil.  So  Norman  continued  to  bet,  sometimes 
independently,  sometimes  in  partnership  with  the  gentlemanly 
Smith.  He  was  borne  on  by  the  excitement  of  varying  fortune, 
a  varying  fortune  absolutely  under  control  of  the  dealer,  whose 
sleigbt-of-hand  was  perfect.  And  the  varying  fortune  had  an  un- 
varying tendency  in  the  long  run — to  put  three  stakes  out  of  five 
into  the  pockets  of  the  gamblers,  who  found  the  little  game  very 
interesting  amusement  for  gentlemen. 


THE    RESULT    OF    AN    EVENING    WITH    GENTLEMEN,       181 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 


THE  RESULT  OF  AN  EVENING  WITH  GENTLEMEN. 


« 


rprf^^J    LL  the  time  that  these  smiling  villains  were  by 
consummate  art  drawing  their  weak-headed  victim 
into  their  toils,  what  was  August  doing?     Where 
£^%}"'^3-      were  his  prompt  decision  of  character,  his  quick 
3  intelligence,    his    fine    German    perseverance,   that 

should  have  saved  the  brother  of  Julia  Anderson  from  harpies  ? 
Could  our  blue-eyed  young  countryman,  who  knew  how  to  cher- 
ish noble  aspirations  Avalking  in  a  plowman's  furrow — could  he 
stand  there  satisfying  his  revenge  by  witnessing  the  ruin  of  a 
young  man  who,  like  many  others,  was  wicked  only  because  he 
was  weak  ? 

In  truth,  August  was  a  man  whose  feelings  were  persistent. 
His  resentment  was — like  his  love — constant.  But  his  love  of 
justice  was  higher  and  more  persistent,  and  he  could  not  have 
seen  any  one  fleeced  in  this  merciless  way  without  taking  sides 
strongly  with  the  victim.  Much  less  could  he  see  the  brother 
of  Julia  tempted  on  to  the  rocks  by  the  false  lights  of  villainous 
wreckers  without  a  great  desire  to  save  him.  For  the  letter  of 
Andrew  had  ceased •  now  to  burn  in  his  pocket.  That  other  let- 
ter— the  only  one  that  Julia  had  been  able  to  send  through  Cyn- 


182  THE    END    OF    THE    WOULD. 

thy  Ann  and  Jonas — that  other  letter,  written  all  over  with  such 
tender  extravagances  as  love  feeds  on  ;  the  thought  of  that  other 
letter,  which  told  how  beautiful  and  precious  were  the  invita- 
tions to  the  weary  and  heavy-laden,  had  stilled  resentment,  and 
there  came  instead  a  keen  desire  to  save  Norman  for  the  sake 
of  Julia  and  justice.  But  how  to  do  it  was  an  embarrassing  ques- 
tion— a  question  that  was  more  than  August  could  solve.  There 
was  a  difficulty  in  the  weakness  and  wrong-headedness  of  Nor- 
man ;  a  difficulty  in  Norman's  prejudice  against  Dutchmen  in 
general  and  August  in  particular;  a  difficulty  in  the  fact  that 
August  was  a  sort  of  a  fugitive,  if  not  from  justice,  certainly  from 
injustice. 

But  when  nearly  a  third  of  Norman's  employer's  money 
had  gone  into  the  gamblers'  heap,  and  when  August  began  to 
understand  that  it  was  another  man's  money  that  Norman  was 
losing,  and  that  the  victim  was  threatened  by  no  half-way  ruin, 
he  determined  to  do  something,  even  at  the  risk  of  making 
himself  known  to  Norman  and  to  Parkins — was  he  Hum- 
phreys in  disguise  ? — and  at  the  risk  of  arrest  for  house-break- 
ing. August  acted  with  his  eyes  open  to  all  the  perils  from  gam- 
blers' pistols  and  gamblers'  malice ;  and  after  he  had  started  to 
interfere,  the  mud-clerk  called  him  back,  and  said,  in  his  half-in- 
difFerent  way: 

"  Looky  here,  Gus,  don't  be  a  blamed  fool.  That's  a  purty 
little  game.  That  greeny's  got  to  learn  to  let  blacklegs  alone, 
and  he  don't  look  like  one  that'll  take  advice.  Let  him  scorch 
a  little ;  it'll  do  him  good.  It's  healthy  for  young  men.  That's 
the  reason  the  old  man  don't  forbid  it,  I  s'pose.  And  these  fel- 
lows carry  good  shooting-irons  with  hair-triggers,  and  I  declare  I 
don't  want  to  be  bothered  writing  home  to  your  mother,  and 


THE  RESULT  OF  AN  EVENING  WITH  GENTLEMEN.   18'j 

explaining  to  her  that  you  got  killed  in  a  fight  with  blacklegs. 
I  declare  I  don't,  you  see.  And  then  you'll  get  the  '  old  man ' 
down  on  you,  if  you  let  a  bird  out  of  the  trap  in  which  he  goes 
snucks ;  you  will,  I  declare.  And  you'll  get  walking-papers  at 
Louisville.  Let  the  game  alone.  You  haven't  got  any  hand  to 
play  against  Parkins,  nohow ;  and  I  reckon  the  greenhorns  are 


THE      MUD-CLEKK. 

his  lawful  prey.     Cats  couldn't  live  without  mice.     You'll  lose 
your  place,  I  declare  you  will,  if  you  say  a  word." 

August  stopped  long  enough  to  take  in  the  full  measure  of 
his  sacrifice.  So  far  from  being  deterred  by  it,  he  was  more 
than  ever  determined  to  act.  Not  the  love  of  Julia,  so  much, 
now,  but  the  farewell  prayer  and  benediction  and  the  whole  life 
and  spirit  of  the  sweet  Moravian  mother  in  her  child-full  house 
at  home  were  in  his  mind  at  this  moment.  Things  which 
a  man  will  not  do  for  the  love  of    woman    he    may  do  for 


184  THE    END    OF    THE    "WORLD. 

the  love  of  God — and  it  was  with  a  sense  of  moral  exaltation 
that  August  entered  into  the  lofty  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  he  had 
seen  in  bis  mother,  and  caught  himself  saying,  in  his  heart,  as  he 
had  heard  her  say,  "  Let  us  do  anything  for  the  Father's  sake  ! " 
Some  will  call  tbis  cant.  So  much  the  worse  for  them.  This 
motive,  too  little  felt  in  our  day — too  little  felt  in  any  day — is 
the  great  impulse  that  has  enabled  men  to  do  the  bravest  things 
that  have  been  done.  The  sublimest  self-sacrifice  is  only  possible 
to  a  man  by  the  aid  of  some  strong  moral  tonic.  God's  love 
is  the  chief   support  of  tbe  strongest  spirits. 

August  touched  Norman  on  the  arm.  The  face  of  the  latter 
expressed  anything  but  pleasure  at  meeting  him,  now  tbat  he 
felt  guilty.  But  this  was  not  the  uppermost  feeling  with 
Norman.  He  noticed  that  August's  clothes  were  spotted  with 
engine-grease,  and  his  first  fear  was  of  compromising  his 
respectability. 

In  a  hurried  way  August  began  to  explain  to  him  that  he  was 
betting  with  gamblers,  but  Smith  stood  close  to  them,  looking 
at  August  in  such  a  contemptuous  way  as  to  make  Norman  feel 
very  uncomfortable,  and  Parkins  seeing  the  crowd  attracted  by 
August's  explanations — which  he  made  in  some  detail,  by  way 
of  adapting  himself  to  Norman — of  the  trick  by  which  the 
upper  card  is  thrown  out  first,  Parkins  said,  "  I  see  you  un- 
derstand the  game,  young  man.     If  you  do,  why  don't  you  bet  ? " 

At  this  the  crowd  laughed,  and  Norman  drew  away  from 
the  striker's  greasy  clothes,  and  said  that  he  didn't  want  to  speak 
any  further  to  a  burglar,  he  believed.  But  August  followed,  deter- 
mined to  warn  him  against  Smith.  Smith  was  ahead  of  him, 
however,  saying  to  Norman,  "Look  out  for  your  pockets — 
that  greasy  fellow  will  rob  you." 


THE    RESULT    OF    AN    EVENING    WITH    GENTLEMEN.       185 

And  Norman,  who  was  nothing  if  not  highly  respectable, 
resolved  to  shake  off  the  troublesome  "  Dutchman  "  at  once.  "  I 
don't  know  what  you  are  up  to  now,  but  at  home  you  are  known 
as  a  thief.  So  please  let  me  alone,  will  you  ? "  This  Norman 
tried  to  say  in  an  annihilating  way. 

The  crowd  looked  for  a  fight.  August  said  loud  enough  to  be 
heard,  "  You  know  very  well  that  you  lie.  I  wanted  to  save  you 
from  being  a  thief,  but  you  are  betting  money  now  that  is  not 
yours." 

The  company,  of  course,  sympathized  with  the  gentleman  and 
against  the  machine-oil  on  the  striker's  clothes,  so  that  there 
arose  quickly  a  murmur,  started  by  Smith,  "  Put  the  bully  out," 
and  August  was  "  hustled."     It  is  well  that  he  was  not  shot. 

It  was  quite  time  for  him  to  go  on  watch  now ;  for  the  loud- 
ticking  marine-clock  over  the  window  of  the  clerk's  office  pointed 
to  three  minutes  past  twelve,  and  the  striker  hurried  to  his  post 
at  the  starboard  engine,  with  the  bitterness  of  defeat  and  the 
shame  of  insult  in  his  heart.  He  had  sacrificed  his  place,  doubt- 
less, and  risked  much  beside,  and  all  for  nothing.  The  third 
engineer  complained  of  his  tardiness  in  not  having  relieved 
him  three  minutes  before,  and  August  went  to  his  duties  with  a 
bitter  heart.  To  a  man  who  is  persistent,  as  August  was, 
defeat  of  any  sort  is  humiliating. 

As  for  Norman,  he  bet  after  this  just  to  show  his  indepen- 
dence and  to  show  that  the  money  was  his  own,  as  well  as  in  the 
vain  hope  of  winning  back  what  he  had  lost.  He  bet  every  cent. 
Then  he  lost  his  watch,  and  at  half -past  one  o'clock  he  went  to 
his  state-room,  stripped  of  all  loose  valuables,  and  sweating  great 
drops.  And  the  mud-clerk,  who  was  still  in  the  office,  remarked 
to  himself,  with  a  pleasant  chuckle,  that  it  was  good  for  him ;   he 


186  THE    END    OF    THE    WOBLD. 

declared  it  was ;  teach  the  fellow  to  let  monte  alone,  and  keep  his 
eyes  peeled  when  he  traveled.    It  would  so ! 

The  idea  was  a  good  one,  and  he  went  down  to  the  star- 
board engine  and  told  the  result  of  the  nice  little  game  to  his 
friend  the  striker,  drawling  it  out  in  a  relishful  way,  how  the 
blamed  idiot  never  stopped  till  they'd  got  his  watch,  and  then 
looked  like  as  if  he'd  a  notion  to  jump  into  the  "  drink."  But 
'twould  cure  him  of  meddlin'  with  monte.     It  would  so  ! 

He  walked  away,  and  August  was  just  reflecting  on  the  heart- 
lessness  of  his  friend,  when  the  mud-clerk  came  back  again,  and 
began  drawling  his  words  out  as  before,  just  as  though  each  dis- 
tinct word  were  of  a  delightful  flavor  and  he  regretted  that  he 
must  part  with  it. 

"  I've  got  you  even  with  Parkins,  old  fellow.  He'll  be  strung 
up  on  a  lamp-post  at  Paducah,  I  reckon.  I  saw  a  Paducah  man 
aboard,  and  I  put  a  flea  in  his  ear.  We've  got  to  lay  there  an 
hour  or  two  to  put  off  a  hundred  barrels  of  molasses  and  two 
hundred -sacks  of  coffee  and  two  lots  of  plunder.  There'll  be 
a  hot  time  for  Parkins.  He  let  on  to  marry  a  girl  and  fooled  her. 
They'll  teach  him  a  lesson.  You'll  be  off  watch,  and  we'll  have 
some  fun  looking  on."  And  the  mud-clerk  evidently  thought 
that  it  would  be  even  funnier  to  see  Parkins  hanged  than  it  had 
been  to  see  him  fleece  Norman.  Gus  the  striker  did  not  see  how 
either  scene  could  be  very  entertaining.  But  he  was  sick  at  heart, 
and  one  could  not  expect  him  to  show  much  interest  in  manly 
sports. 


WAKING    UP    AN    UGLY    CUSTOMER. 


187 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 


WAKING    UP   AN    UGLY   CUSTOMER. 


HE  steady  beat  of  the  wheels  and  the  incessant 
clank  of  the  engines  went  on  as  usual.  The  boat 
was  loaded  almost  to  her  guards,  and  did  not  make 
•^y  much  speed.  The  wheels  kept  their  persistent  beat 
(j  upon  the  water,  and  the  engines  kept  their  rhythmical 
clangor  going,  until  August  found  himself  getting  drowsy. 
Trouble,  with  forced  inaction,  nearly  always  has  a  soporific 
tendency,  and  a  continuous  noise  is  favorable  to  sleep.  Once  or 
twice  August  roused  himself  to  a  sense  of  his  responsibility  and 
battled  with  his  heaviness.  It  was  nearing  the  end  of  his 
watch,  for  the  dog-watch  of  two  hours  set  in  at  four  o'clock. 
But  it  seemed  to  him  that  four  o'clock  would  never  come. 

An  incident  occurred  just  at  this  moment  that  helped  him  to 
keep  his  eyes  open:  A  man  went  aft  through  the  engine-room 
with  a  red  handkerchief  tied  round  his  forehead.  In  spite  of 
this  partial  disguise  August  perceived  that  it  was  Parkins.  He 
passed  through  to  the  place  where  the  steerage  or  deck  passen- 
gers are,  and  then  disappeared  from  August's  sight.  He  had. 
meant  to  disembark  at  a  wood-yard  just  below  Paducah,  but  for 


188  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

some  reason  the  boat  did  not  stop,  and  now,  as  August  guessed,  he 
was  hiding  himself  from  Paducah  eyes.  He  was  not  much  too 
soon,  for  the  great  bell  on  the  hurricane-deck  was  already  ringing 
for  Paducah,  and  the  summer  dawn  was  showing  itself  faintly 
through  the  river  fog. 

The  alarm-bell  rang  in  the  engine-room,  and  Wehle  stood  by 
his  engine.  Then  the  bell  rang  to  stop  the  starboard  engine, 
and  August  obeyed  it.  The  pilot  of  a  Western  steamboat  de- 
pends much  upon  his  engines  for  steerage  in  making  a  landing, 
and  the  larboard  engine  was  kept  running  a  while  longer  in  order 
to  bring  the  deeply-loaded  boat  round  to  her  landing  at  the  prim- 
itive wharf-boat  of  that  day.  There  is  something  fine  in  the 
faith  with  which  an  engineer  obeys  the  bell  of  the  pilot,  not 
knowing  what  may  be  ahead,  not  inquiring  what  may  be  the 
effect  of  the  order,  but  only  doing  exactly  what  he  is  bid  when 
he  is  bid.  August  had  stopped  his  engine,  and  stood  trying  to 
keep  his  mind  off  Parkins  and  the  events  of  the  night,  that  he 
might  be  ready  to  obey  the  next  signal  for  his  engine.  But  the 
bell  rang  next  to  stop  the  other  engine,  at  which  the  second 
engineer  stood,  and  August  was  so  free  from  responsibility  in  re- 
gard to  that  that  he  hardly  noticed  the  sound  of  the  bell,  until  it 
rang  a  second  time  more  violently.  Then  he  observed  that  the 
larboard  engine  still  ran.  "Was  Munson  dead  or  asleep  ?  Clearly 
it  was  August's  duty  to  stand  by  his  own  engine.  But  then  he 
was  startled  to  think  what  damage  to  property  or  life  might  take 
place  from  the  failure  of  the  second  engineer  to  stop  his  engine. 
While  he  hesitated,  and  all  these  considerations  flashed  through 
his  mind,  the  pilot's  bell  rang  again  long  and  loud,  and  August 
then,  obeying  an  impulse  rather  than  a  conviction,  ran  over  to 
the  other  engine,  stopped  it,  and   then,  considering  that  it  had 


WAKING    UP    AN    UGLY    CUSTOMEB.  189 

run  so  long  against  orders,  he  reversed  it  and  set  it  to  back- 
ing without  waiting  instructions.  Then  he  seized  Munson  and 
woke  him,  and  hurried  back  to  his  post.  But  the  larboard  engine 
had  not  made  three  revolutions  backward  before  the  boat,  hope- 
lessly thrown  from  her  course  by  the  previous  neglect, 
struck  the  old  wharf-boat  and  sunk  it.  But  for  the  prompt- 
ness and  presence  of  mind  with  which  Wehle  acted,  the  steam- 
boat itself  would  have  suffered  severely.  The  mate  and  then 
the  captain  came  rushing  into  the  engine-room.  Munson  was 
discharged  at  once,  and  the  striker  was  promised  engineer's 
wages. 

Gus  went  off  watch  at  this  moment,  and  the  mud-clerk  said 
to  him,  in  his  characteristically  indifferent  voice,  "  Such  luck,  I 
declare  !  I  was  sure  you  would  be  dismissed  for  meddling  with 
Parkins,  and  here  you  are  promoted,  I  declare ! " 

The  mishap  occasioned  much  delay  to  the  boat,  as  it  was  very 
inconvenient  to  deliver  freight  at  that  day  and  at  that  stage  of 
water  without  the  intervention  of  the  wharf -boat.  A  full  hour 
was  consumed  in  finding  a  landing,  and  in  rigging  the  double- 
staging  and  temporary  planks  necessary  to  get  the  molasses  and 
coffee  and  household  "plunder"  ashore.  Some  hint  that  Par- 
kins was  on  the  river  had  already  reached  Paducah,  and  the  sher- 
iff and  two  deputies  and  a  small  crowd  were  at  the  landing 
looking  for  him.  A  search  of  the  boat  failed  to  discover  him, 
and  the  crowd  would  have  left  the  landing  but  for  occasional 
hints  slyly  thrown  out  by  the  mud-clerk  as  he  went  about  over 
the  levee  collecting  freight-bills.  These  hints,  given  in  a  non- 
committal way.  kept  the  crowd  alive  with  expectation,  and  when 
the  rumors  thus  started  spread  abroad,  the  levee  was  soon  filled 
with  an  excited  and  angry  multitude. 


190  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

If  it  had  been  a  question  of  delivering  a  criminal  to  justice, 
August  would  not  have  hesitated  to  tell  the  sheriff  where  to  look. 
But  he  very  well  knew  that  the  sheriff  could  not  convey  the  man 
through  the  mob  alive,  and  to  deliver  even  such  a  scoundrel  to 
the  summary  vengeance  of  a  mob  was  something  that  he  could 
not   find  it  in  his  heart  to  do. 

In  truth,  the  sheriff  and  his  officers  did  not  seek  very  zeal- 
ously for  their  man.  Under  the  circumstances,  it  was  probable 
he  would  not  surrender  himself  without  a  fight,  in  which  some- 
body would  be  killed,  and  besides  there  must  ensue  a  battle  with 
the  mob.  It  was  what  they  called  an  ugly  job,  and  they  were 
not  loth  to  accept  the  captain's  assurance  that  the  gambler  had 
gone  ashore. 

While  August  was  unwilling  to  deliver  the  hunted  vil- 
lain to  a  savage  death,  he  began  to  ask  himself  why  he  might 
not  in  some  way  use  his  terror  in  the  interest  of  justice. 
For  he  had  just  then  seen  the  wretched  and  bewildered  face  of 
Norman  looking  ghastly  enough  in  the  fog  of  the  morning. 

At  last,  full  of  this  notion,  and  possessed,  too,  by  his  habit  of 
accomplishing  at  all  hazards  what  he  had  begun,  August  strolled 
back  through  the  now  quiet  engine-room  to  the  deck-passengers' 
quarter.  It  was  about  half  an  hour  before  six  o'clock,  when  the 
dog-watch  would  expire  and  he  must  go  on  duty  again. 
In  one  of  the  uppermost  of  the  filthy  bunks,  in  the  darkest 
corner,  near  the  wheel,  he  discovered  what  he  thought  to  be  his 
man.  The  deck-passengers  were  still  asleep,  lying  around  stu- 
pidly. August  paused  a  moment,  checked  by  a  sense  of  the  dan- 
gerousness  of  his  undertaking.  Then  he  picked  up  a  stick  of 
wood  and  touched  the  gambler,  who  could  not  have  been  very 
sound  asleep,  lying  in  hearing  of  the  curses  of  the  mob  on  the 


WAKING    UP   AN   UGLY   CUSTOMER. 


191 


shore.  At  first  Parkins  did  not  move,  but  August  gave  him  a 
still  more  vigorous  thrust.  Then  he  peered  out  between  the 
blanket  and  the  handkerchief  over  his  forehead. 

"  I  will  take  that  money  you  won  last  night  from  that  young 
man,  if  you  please." 


WAKING     UP     AS     UGLY     CUSTOMER. 

Parkins  saw  that  it  was  useless  to  deny  his  identity.  "Do 
you  want  to  be  shot  ? "  he  asked  fiercely. 

"  Not  any  more  than  you  want  to  be  hung,"  said  August. 
"The  one  would  follow  the  other  in  five  minutes.  Give  back 
that  money  and  I  will  go  away." 


192  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

The  gambler  trembled  a  minute.  He  was  fairly  at  bay.  He 
took  out  a  roll  of  bills  and  banded  it  to  August.  There  was  but 
five  hundred.  Smith  had  the  other  four  hundred  and  fifty,  he 
said.  But  August  had  a  quiet  German  steadiness  of  nerve.  He 
said  that  unless  the  other  four  hundred  and  fifty  were  paid  at 
once  he  should  call  in  the  sheriff  or  the  crowd.  Parkins  knew 
that  every  minute  August  stood  there  increased  his  peril, 
and  human  nature  is  now  very  much  like  human  nature  in  the 
days  of  Job.  The  devil  understood  the  subject  very  well  when 
he  said  that  all  that  a  man  hath  will  he  give  for  his  life.  Parkins 
paid  the  four  hundred  and  fifty  in  gold-pieces.  He  would  have 
paid  twice  that  if  August  had  demanded  it. 


AUGUST    AND   NORMAN. 


193 


CHAPTER     XXIX. 


AUGUST    AND    NORMAN. 


(N  a  story  such  as  I  meant  this  to  be,  the  devel- 
opment of  character  stands  for  more  than  the  evo- 
lution of  the  plot,  and  herein  is  the  true  significance 
of  this  contact  of  Wehle  with  the  gamblers,  and,  in- 
deed, of  this  whole  steamboat  life.  It  is  not  enough 
for  one  to  be  good  in  a  country  neighborhood ;  the  sharp  con- 
tests and  severe  ordeals  of  more  exciting  life  are  needed  to  give 
temper  to  the  character.  August  Wehle  was  hardly  the  same 
man  on  this  morning  at  Paducah,  with  the  nine  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  in  his  pocket,  that  he  had  been  the  evening  before, 
when  he  first  felt  the  sharp  resentment  against  the  man  who 
had  outraged  his  father.  In  acting  on  a  high  plane,  one  is  un- 
consciously lifted  to  that  plane.  Men  become  Christians  some- 
times from  the  effect  of  sudden  demands  made  upon  their  higher 
moral  nature,  demands  which  compel  them  to  choose  between 
a  life  higher  than  their  present  living,  or  a  moral  degradation. 
Such  had  been  August's  experience.  He  had  been  drawn  up- 
ward toward  God  by  the  opportunity  and  necessity  for  heroic 
action.  I  have  no  doubt  the  good  Samaritan  got  more  out  of  his 
own  kindness  than  the  robbed  Jew  did. 


194  THE    END    OF  THE   WOKLD. 

Before  he  had  a  chance  to  restore  the  money  to  its  rightful 
owner,  the  two  hours  of  dog-watch  had  expired,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  go  on  watch  again,  much  to  his  annoyance.  He  had 
been  nearly  twenty-four  hours  without  sleep,  and  after  a  night 
of  such  excitement  it  was  unpleasant  as  well  as  perilous  to 
have  to  hold  this  money,  which  did  not  belong  to  him,  for  six 
hours  longer,  liable  at  any  minute  to  get  into  difficulty  through 
any  scheme  of  the  gamblers  and  their  allies,  by  which  his  recovery 
of  the  money  might  be  misinterpreted.  The  morning  seemed  to 
wear  away  so  slowly.  All  the  possibilities  of  Parkins's  attacking 
him,  of  young  Anderson's  committing  suicide,  and  of  the  miscon- 
struction that  might  be  put  upon  his  motives — the  making  of  his 
disinterested  action  seem  robbery— haunted  his  excitable  imagin- 
ation. At  last,  while  the  engines  were  shoving  their  monotonous 
shafts  backward  and  forward,  and  the  "  palatial  steamer "  la  tan 
was  slowly  pushing  her  way  up  the  stream,  August  grew  so 
nervous  over  his  money  that  he  resolved  to  relieve  himself  of 
part  of  it.     So  he  sent  for  the  mud-clerk  by  a  passing  deck-hand. 

"  I  want  you  to  keep  this  money  for  me  until  I  get  off 
watch,"  said  August.  "  I  made  Parkins  stand  and  deliver  this 
morning  while  we  were  at  Paducah." 

"  You  did  ? "  said  the  mud-clerk,  not  offering  to  touch  the 
money.  "  You  risked  your  life,  I  declare,  for  that  fool  that  called 
you  a  thief.  You  are  a  fool,  Gus,  and  nothing  but  your  blamed 
good  luck  can  save  you  from  getting  salivated,  bright  and  early, 
some  morning.  Not  a  great  deal  I  won't  take  that  money.  I 
don't  relish  lead,  and  I've  got  to  live  among  these  fellows  all  my 
days,  and  I  don't  hold  that  money  for  anybody.  The  old  man 
would  ship  me  at  Louisville,  seeing  I  never  stopped  anybody's 
engine  and  backed  it  in  a  hurry,  as  you  did.     If  I'd  known  where 


AUGUST  AND   NORMAN.  195 

Parkins  was,  I'd  a  dropped  a  gentle  word  in  the  ear  of  the  crowd 
outside,  but  I  wouldn't  a  pulled  that  greeny's  coffee-nuts  out  of 
the  fire,  and  I  won't  hold  the  hot  things  for  you.  I  declare 
I  won't.     Saltpeter  wouldn't  save  me  if  I  did." 

So  Gus  had  to  content  himself  in  his  nervousness,  not  allayed 
by  this  speech,  and  keep  the  money  in  his  pocket  until  noon. 
And,  after  all  the  presentiment  he  had  had,  noon  came  round. 
Presentiments  generally  come  from  the  nerves,  and  signify 
nothing ;  but  nobody  keeps  a  tally  of  the  presentiments  and 
auguries  that  fail.  When  the  first-engineer  and  a  new  man 
took  the  engines  at  noon,  Gus  was  advised  by  the  former  to  get 
some  sleep,  but  there  was  no  sleep  for  him  until  he  had  found 
Norman,  who  trembled  at  the  sight  of  him. 

"  Where  is  your  state-room  ? "  said  August  sternly,  for  he 
couldn't  bring  himself  to  speak  kindly  to  the  poor  fellow,  even 
in  his  misery. 

Norman  turned  pale.  He  had  been  thinking  of  suicide  all  the 
morning,  but  he  was  a  coward,  and  now  he  evidently  felt  sure 
that  he  was  to  be  killed  by  August.  He  did  not  dare  disobey, 
but  led  the  way,  stopping  to  try  to  apologize  two  or  three  times, 
but  never  getting  any  further  than  "I — I " 

Once  in  the  state-room,  he  sat  down  on  the  berth  and  gasped, 
"I— I " 

"Here  is  your  money,"  said  August,  handing  it  to  him.  "I 
made  the  gambler  give  it  up." 

"I — I "  said  the  astonished  and  bewildered  Norman. 

"  You  needn't  say  a  word.  You  are  a  cowardly  scoundrel, 
and  if  you  say  anything,  I'll  knock  you  down  for  treating  my 
father  as  you  did.  Only  for— for— well,  I  didn't  want  to  see  you 
fleeced. ' 


196  THE   END   OP  THE   WORLD. 

Norman  was  ashamed  for  once,  and  hung  his  head.  It 
touched  the  heart  of  August  a  little,  hut  the  remembrance  of  the 
attack  of  the  mob  on  his  father  made  him  feel  hard  again,  and 
so  his  generous  act  was  performed  ungraciously. 


AGBOUND.  197 


CHAPTER    XXX. 


AGROUND. 


OT  the  boat.  The  boat  ran  on  safely  enough 
to  Louisville,  and  tied  up  at  the  levee,  and  dis- 
charged her  sugar  and  molasses,  and  took  on  a  new 
cargo  of  baled  hay  and  corn  and  flour,  and  went 
back  again,  and  made  I  know  not  how  many  trips, 
and  ended  her  existence  I  can  not  tell  how  or  when.  What 
does  become  of  the  old  steamboats  ?  The  Iatan  ran  for  years 
after  she  tied  up  at  Louisville  that  summer  morning,  and  then 
perhaps  she  was  blown  up  or  burned  up ;  perchance  some  cruel 
sawyer  transfixed  her ;  perchance  she  was  sunk  by  ice,  or  maybe 
she  was  robbed  of  her  engines  and  did  duty  as  barge,  or,  what 
is  more  probable,  she  wore  out  like  the  one-hoss  shay,  and  just 
tumbled  to  pieces  simultaneously. 

It  was  not  the  gambler  who  got  aground  that  morning.  He 
had  yet  other  nice  little  games,  with  three  cards  or  more  or 
none,  to  play. 

It  was  not  the  mud-clerk  who  ran  aground — good,  non-com- 
mittal soul,  who  never  took  sides  where  it  would  do  him  any 
harm,  and  who  never  worried  himself  about  anything.  Dear, 
drawling,  optimist  philosopher,  who  could  see  how  other  people's 


198  THE   END   OF  THE   WORLD. 

mishaps  were  best  for  them,  and  who  took  good  care  not  to  have 
any  himself!    It  was  not  he  that  ran  aground. 

It  was  not  Norman  Anderson  who  ran  aground.  He  walked 
into  the  store  with  the  proud  and  manly  consciousness  of  having 
done  his  duty,  he  made  his  returns  of  every  cent  of  money  that 
had  come  into  his  hands,  and,  like  all  other  faithful  stewards, 
received  the  cordial  commendation  of  his  master. 

But  August  Wehle  the  striker,  just  when  he  was  to  be 
made  an  engineer,  when  he  thought  he  had  smooth  sailing,  sud- 
denly and  provokingly  found  himself  fast  aground,  with  no 
spar  or  capstan  by  which  he  might  help  himself  off,  with  no 
friendly  craft  alongside  to  throw  him  a  hawser  and  pull  him  off. 

It  seems  that  when  the  captain  promised  him  promotion,  he 
did  not  know  anything  of  August's  interference  with  the  gam- 
blers. But  when  Parkins  filed  his  complaint,  it  touched  the 
captain.  It  was  generally  believed  among  the  employes  of  the 
boat  that  a  percentage  of  gamblers'  gains  was  one  of  the  "  old 
man's  "  perquisites,  and  he  was  not  the  only  steamboat  captain 
who  profited  by  the  nice  little  games  in  the  cabin  upon  which 
he  closed  both  eyes.     And  this  retrieved  nine  hundred  and  fifty 

dollars  was  a  dead  loss  of well,  it  does  not  matter  how  much, 

to  the  virtuous  and  highly  honorable  captain.  His  proportion 
would  have  been  large  enough  at  least  to  pay  his  wife's  pew- 
rent  in  St.  James's  Church,  with  a  little  something  over  for  char- 
itable purposes.  For  the  captain  did  not  mind  giving  a  disinter- 
ested twenty-five  dollars  occasionally  to  those  charities  that  were 
willing  to  show  their  gratitude  by  posting  his  name  as  director, 
or  his  wife's  as  "  Lady  Manageress."  In  this  case  his  right  hand 
never  knew  what  his  left  hand  did— how  it  got  the  money,  for 
instance. 


AGROUND.  190 

So  when  August  drew  his  pay  he  was  informed  that  he  was 
discharged.  No  reason  was  given.  He  tried  to  see  the  captain. 
But  the  captain  was  in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  kissing  his  own 
well-dressed  little  boys,  and  enjoying  the  respect  which  only 
exemplary  and  provident  fathers  enjoy.  And  never  asking  down 
in  his  heart  if  these  boys  might  become  gamblers'  victims,  or  " 
gamblers,  indeed.  The  captain  could  not  see  August  the  striker, 
for  he  was  at  home,  and  must  not  be  interfered  with  by  any  of 
his  subordinates.  Besides,  it  was  Sunday,  and  he  could  not  be 
intruded  upon — the  rector  of  St.  James's  was  dining  with  him 
on  his  wife's  invitation,  and  it  behooved  him  to  walk  circum- 
spectly, not  with  eye-service  as  a  man-pleaser,  but  serving  the 
Lord. 

So  he  refused  to  see  the  anxious  striker,  and  turned  to  com- 
pliment the  rector  on  his  admirable  sermon  on  the  sin  of  Judas, 
who  sold  his  master  for  thirty  pieces  of  silver. 

And  August  Wehle  had  nothing  left  to  do.  The  river  was 
falling  fast,  the  large  boats  above  the  Falls  were,  in  steamboat- 
man's  phrase,  "  laying  up "  in  the  mouths  of  the  tributaries  and 
other  convenient  harbors,  there  were  plenty  of  engineers  unem- 
ployed, and  there  were  no  vacancies. 


200  THE    END    OF    THE    WOULD. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 


CYNTHY     ANN'S     SACRIFICE. 


ONAS  had  been  all  his  life,  as  he  expressed  it 
in  his  mixed  rhetoric,  "  a  wanderin'  sand-hill  crane, 
makin'  many  crooked  paths,  and,  like  the  cards  in 
French  monte,  a-turnin'  up  suddently  in  mighty  on- 
expected  places."  He  had  been  in  every  queer  place 
from  Halifax  to  Texas,  and  then  had  come  back  to  his  home 
again.  Naturally  cautious,  and  especially  suspicious  of  the 
female  sex,  it  is  not  strange  that  he  had  not  married.  Only  when 
he  "  tied  up  to  the  same  w'arf-boat  alongside  of  Cynthy  Ann,  he 
thought  he'd  found  somebody  as  was  to  be  depended  on  in  a  fog 
or  a  harricane."  This  he  told  to  Cynthy  Ann  as  a  reason  why 
she  should  accept  his  offer  of  marriage. 

"  Jonas,"  said  Cynthy  Ann,  "  don't  flatter.  •  My  heart  is 
dreadful  weak,  and  prone  to  the  vanities  of  this  world.  It  makes 
me  abhor  myself  in  dust  and  sackcloth  fer  you  to  say  such 
things  about  poor  unworthy  me." 

•  "  Ef  I  think  'em,  why  shouldn't   I  say  'em  ?    I  don't  know 
no  law  agin  tellin'  the  truth  ef  you  git  into  a  place  where  you    Q 
can't  no  ways  help  it.     I  don't  call  you  angel,  fer  you  a'n'fe;  you 
ha'nt  got  no  wings  nor  feathers.     I  don't  say  as  how  as  you're 


cynthy  ann's  sacrifice.  201 

pertikeler  knock-down  handsome.  I  don't  pertend  that  you're  a 
spring  chicken.  I  don't  lie  nor  flatter.  I  a'n't  goin'  it  blind, 
like  young  men  in  love.  lu  I  do  say,  with  my  eyes  open  and 
in  my  right  senses,  and  feelin'  solemn,  like  a  man  a-makin'  his 
last  will  and  testament,  that  they  a'n't  no  sech  another  woman  to 
be  found  outside  the  leds  of  the  Bible  betwixt  the  Bay  of  Fundy 
and  the  Rio  Grande.  I've  '  sought  round  this  burdened  airth,'  as 
the  hymn  says,  and  they  a'n't  but  jest  one.  Ef  that  one'll  jest 
make  me  happy,  I'll  fold  my  weary  pinions  and  settle  down  in  a 
rustic  log-cabin  and  raise  corn  and  potaters  till  death  do  us  part." 

Cynthy  trembled.  Cynthy  was  a  saint,  a  martyr  to  religious 
feeling,  a  medieval  nun  in  her  ascetic  eschewing  of  the  pleasures 
of  life.  But  Cynthy  Ann  was  also  a  woman.  And  a  woman 
whose  spring-time  had  passed.  When  love  buds  out  thus  late, 
when  the  opportunity  for  the  woman's  nature  to  blossom  comes 
unexpectedly  upon  one  at  her  age,  the  temptation  is  not  easily 
resisted.  Cynthy  trembled,  but  did  not  quite  yield  up  her  Chris- 
tian constancy. 

"  Jonas,  I  don't  know  whether  I'd  orto  or  not.  I  don't  deny — 
I  think  I'd  better  ax  brother  Goshorn,  you  know,  sence  what 
would  it  profit  ef  I  gained  you  or  any  joy  in  this  world,  and  then 
come  short  by  settin'  you  up  fer  a  idol  in  my  heart  ?  I  don't 
know  whether  a  New  Light  is  a  onbeliever  or  not,  and  whether 
I'd  be  onequally  yoked  or  not.  I  must  ax  them  as  knows  bet- 
ter nor  I  do." 

"  Well,  ef  I'm  a  onbeliever,  they's  nobody  as  could  teach  me 
to  believe  quicker' n  you  could.  I  never  did  believe  much  in 
women  folks  till  I  believed  in  you." 

"  BuJ;  that's  the  sin  of  it,  Jonas.  I'd  believe  in  you,  and  you'd 
believe  in  me,  aud  we'd  be^puttin'  our  trust  in  the  creatur'  instid 


202  THE   END    OP   THE   WORLD. 

of  the  Creator,  and  the  Creator  ia  mighty  jealous  of  our  idols, 
and  He  would  take  us  away  fer  idolatry." 

"No,  but  I  wouldn't  worship  you,  though  I'd  rather  worship 
you  than  anybody  else  ef  I  was  goin'  into  the  worshipin'  business. 
But  you  see  I  a'n't,  honey.  I  wouldn't  sacrifice  to  you  no  lambs 
nor  sheep,  I  wouldn't  pray  to  you,  nor  I  wouldn't  kiss  your  shoes, 
like  people  does  the  Pope's.  An'  I  know  you  wouldn't  make 
no  idol  of  me  like  them  Greek  gods  that  Andrew's  got  picters  of. 
I  a'n't  handsome  enough  by  a  long  shot  fer  a  Jupiter  or  a  'Polio. 
An'  I  tell  you,  Cynthy,  'tain't  no  sin  to  love.  Love  is  the  fillfull- 
ing  of  the  law." 

But  Cynthy  Ann  persisted  that  she  must  consult  Brother  Go- 
shorn,  the  antiquated  class-leader  at  the  cross-roads.  Brother 
Goshorn  was  a  good  man,  but  Jonas  had  a  great  contempt  for 
him.  He  was  a  strainer  out  of  gnats,  though  I  do  not  think  he 
swallowed  camels.  He  always  stood  at  the  door  of  the  love-feast 
and  kept  out  every  woman  with  jewelry,  every  girl  who  had  an 
"  artificial "  in  her  bonnet,  every  one  who  wore  curls,  every  man 
whose  hair  was  beyond  what  he  considered  the  regulation  length 
of  Scripture,  and  every  woman  who  wore  a  veil.  In  support  of 
this  last  prohibition  he  quoted  Isaiah  iii,  23  :  "  The  glasses  and  the 
fine  linen  and  the  hoods  and  the  veils." 

To  him  Cynthy  Ann  presented  the  case  with  much  trepida- 
tion. All  her  hopes  for  this  world  hung  upon  it.  But  this 
consideration  did  not  greatly  affect  Brother  Goshorn.  Hopes  and 
joys  were  as  nothing  to  him  where  the  strictness  of  discipline 
was  involved.  The  Discipline  meant  more  to  a  mind  of  his  cast 
than  the  Decalogue  or  the  Beatitudes.  He  shook  his  head.  He^ 
did  not  know.  He  must  consult  Brother  Hall.  Now,  Brother 
Hall  was  the  young   preacher  traveling  his  second  year,  very 


CYNTHY  ann's  sacrifice.  203 

young  and  very  callow.  Ten  years  of  the  sharp  attritions  of 
a  Methodist  itinerant's  life  would  take  his  unworldliness  out  of 
him  and  develop  his  practical  sense  as  no  other  school  in  the 
world  could  develop  it.  But  as  yet  Brother  Hall  had  not  rubbed 
off  any  of  his  sanctimoniousness,  had  not  lost  any  of  his  belief 
that  the  universe  should  be  governed  on  high  general  princi- 
ples with  no  exceptions. 

So  when  Brother  Goshorn  informed  him  that  one  of  his  mem- 
bers, Sister  Cynthy  Ann  Dyke,  wished  to  marry,  and  to  marry 
a  man  that  was  a  New  Light,  and  had  asked  his  opinion,  and 
that  he  did  not  certainly  know  whether  New  Lights  were  believ- 
ers or  not,  Brother  Hall  did  not  stop  to  inquire  what  Jonas 
might  be  personally.  He  looked  and  felt  very  solemn,  and  said 
that  it  was  a  pity  for  a  Christian  to  marry  a  New  Light.  It 
was  clearly  a  sin,  for  a  New  Light  was  an  Arian.  And  an  Arian 
was  just  as  good  as  an  infidel.  An  Arian  robbed  Christ  of  His 
supreme  deity,  and  since  he  did  not  worship  the  Trinity  in  the 
orthodox  sense  he  must  worship  a  false  god.  He  was  an  idol- 
ater therefore,  and  it  was  a  sin  to  be  yoked  together  with  such 
an  one. 

Many  men  more  learned  than  the  callow  but  pious  and  sin- 
cere Brother  Hall  have  left  us  in  print  just  such    deductions. 

"When  this  decision  was  communicated  to  the  scrupu- 
lous Cynthy  Ann,  she  folded  her  hopes  as  one  lays  away 
the  garment  of  a  dead  friend  ;  she  went  to  her  little  room 
and  prayed ;  she  offered  a  sacrifice  to  God  not  less  costly 
than  Abraham's,  and  in  a  like  sublime  spirit.  She  watered 
the  plant  in  the  old  cracked  blue-and-white  tea-pot,  she  noticed 
that  it  was  just  about  to  bloom,  and  then  she  dropped  one 
tear  upon  it,  and  because   it   suggested   Jonas   in  some  way. 


204 


THE   END   OP  THE   WORLD. 


she  threw  it  away,  resolved  not  to  have  any  idols  in  her  heart. 
And,  doubtless,  God  received  the  sacrifice,  mistaken  and  needless 


CYNTHT     ANN'S      SACRIFICE. 

as  it  was,  a  token  of  the  faithfulness  of  her  heart  to  her  duty  as 
she  understood  it. 


cynthy  ann's  sacrifice.  205 

Cynthy  Ann  explained  it  all  to  Jonas  in  a  severe  and  irrevoc- 
able way.    Jonas  looked  at  her  a  moment,  stunned. 

"  Did  Brother  Goshorn  venture  to  send  me  any  of  his  wisdom, 
in  the  way  of  advice,  layin'  round  loose,  like  counterfeit  small 
change,  cheap  as  dirt  ? " 

"  Wall,  yes,"  said  Cynthy  Ann,  hesitating. 

"  I'll  bet  the  heft  of  my  fortin',  to  be  paid  on  receipt  of  the 
amount,  that  I  kin  tell  to  a  T  what  the  good  Christian  wanted  me 
to  do." 

"Don't  be  oncharitable,  Jonas.  Brother  Goshorn  is  a  mighty 
sincere  man." 

"  So  he  is,  but  his  bein'  sincere  don't  do  me  no  good.  He 
wanted  you  to  advise  me  to  jine  the  Methodist  class  as  a  way  of 
gittin'  out  of  the  difficulty.  And  you  was  too  good  a  Christian 
to  ask  me  to  change  fer  any  sech  reason,  knowin'  I  wouldn't  be 
fit  for  you  ef   I  did." 

Cynthy  Ann  was  silent.  She  would  have  liked  to  have  Jonas 
join  the  church  with  her,  but  if  he  had  done  it  now  she  herself 
would  have  doubted  his  sincerity. 

"  Now,  looky  here,  Cynthy,  ef  you'll  say  you  don't  love  me, 
and  never  can,  I'll  leave  you  to  wunst,  and  fly  away  and  mourn 
like  a  turtle-dove.  But  so  long  as  it's  nobody  but  Goshorn,  I'm 
goin'  to  stay  and  litigate  the  question  till  the  Millerite  millennium 
comes.  I  appeal  to  Caesar  or  somebody  else.  Neither  Brother 
Goshorn  nor  Brother  Hall  knows  enough  to  settle  this  question. 
I'm  agoin'  to  the  persidin'  elder.  And  you  can't  try  a  man  and 
hang  him  and  then  send  him  to  the  penitentiary  fer  the  rest  of 
his  born  days  without  givin'  him  one  chance  to  speak  fer  his- 
self  agin  the  world  and  everybody  else.  I'm  goin'  to  see  the  per- 
sidin' elder  myself  and  plead  my  own  cause,  and  ef  he  goes  agin 


206  THE   END    OF  THE   WORLD. 

me,  I'll  cany  it  up  to  the  bishop  or  the  archbishop  or  the  nex' 
highest  man  in  the  heap,  till  I  git  plum  to  the  top,  and  ef  they 
all  go  agin  me,  I'll  begin  over  agin  at  the  bottom  with  Brother 
Goshorn,  and  keep  on  till  I  find  a  man  that's  got  common-sense 
enough  to  salt  his  religion  with." 


juua's  enterprise.  207 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 


JULIA'S    ENTERPRISE. 


TJGUST  was  very  sick  at  the  castle. 
This   was   the    first   news  of   his    return    that 
reached  Julia  through  Jonas  and  Cynthy  Ann. 

But  in  my  interest  in  Jonas  and  Cynthy  Ann, 
of  whom  I  think  a  great  deal,  I  forgot  to  say  that 
long  hefore  the  events  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter,  Humphreys 
had  been  suddenly  called  away  from  his  peaceful  retreat  in 
the  hill  country  of  Clark  township.  In  fact,  the  "  important  busi- 
ness," or  "  the  illness  of  a  friend,"  whichever  it  was,  occurred 
the  very  next  day  after  Norman  Anderson's  father  returned  from 
Louisville,  and  reported  that  he  had  secured  for  his  son  an  "  out- 
side situation,"  that  is  to  say,  a  place  as  a  collector. 

When  he  had  gone,  Jonas  remarked  to  Cynthy  Ann,  "  Where 
the  carcass  is,  there  the  turkey-buzzards  is  gethered.  That  shinin' 
example  of  early  piety  never  plays  but  one  game.  That  is,  fox- 
and-geese.  He's  gone  after  a  green  goslin'  now,  and  he'll  find 
him  when  he's  fattest." 

But  the  gentle  singing-master  had  come  back  from  his  excur- 
sion, and  was  taking  a  profound  interest  in  the  coming  end  of 


208  THE   END    OP   THE    WOULD. 

the  world.  Jon.is  observed  that  it  "  seemed  like  as  ef  he  lied 
charge  of  the  whole  performance,  and  meant  to  shet  up  the 
sky  like  a  blue  cotton  umbrell.  He's  got  a  single  eye,  and  it's 
the  same  ole  game.     Fox  and  geese  nlways,  and  he's  the  fox." 

Humphreys  still  lived  at  Samuel  Anderson's,  still  devoted 
himself  to  pleasing  Mrs.  Abigail,  still  bowed  regretfully  to  Julia, 
and  spoke  caressingly   to  Betsey  Malcolm  at  every  opportunity. 

But  August  was  sick  at  the  castle.  He  was  very  sick.  Every 
morning  Dr.  Dibrell,  a  "calomel-doctor" — not  a  steam-doctor — 
rode  by  the  house  on  his  way  to  Andrew's,  and  every  morning 
Mrs.  Anderson  wondered  afresh  who  was  sick  clown  that  way. 
But  the  doctor  staid  so  long  that  Mrs.  Abigail  made  up  her  mind 
it  must  be  somebody  four  or  five  miles  away,  and  so  dismissed  the 
matter  from  her  mind.     For  August's  return  had  been  kept  secret. 

But  Julia  noticed,  in  her  heart  of  hearts,  and  with  ever-in- 
creasing affliction,  that  the  doctor  staid  longer  each  day  than  on 
the  day  before,  and  she  thought  she  noticed  also  an  increasing 
anxiety  on  his  face  as  he  rode  home  again.  Her  desire  to  know 
the  real  truth,  and  to  see  August,  to  do  for  him,  to  give  her 
life  for  him,  were  wearing  her  away.  It  is  hard  to  see  a  friend 
go  from  you  when  you  have  done  everything.  But  to  have  a 
friend  die  within  your  reach,  while  you  are  yet  unable  to  help 
him,  is  the  saddest  of  all.  All  this  anxiety  Julia  suffered  with- 
out even  the  blessed  privilege  of  showing  it.  The  pent-up  fire 
consumed  her,  and  she  was  at  times  almost  distract.  Every  morn- 
ing she  managed  to  be  on  the  upper  porch  when  the  doctor 
went  by,  and  from  the  same  watch-tower  she  studied  his  face 
when  he  went  back. 

Then  came  a  morning  when  there  were  two  doctors.  A  phy- 
sician from  the  county-seat  village  went  by,  in  company  with  Dr. 


julta's  enterprise.  209 

Dibrell.  So  there  must  be  a  consultation  at  the  castle.  Julia 
knew  then  that  the  worst  had  to  be  looked  in  the  face.  And  she 
longed  to  get  away  from  under  the  searching  black  eyes  of  her 
mother  and  utter  the  long-pent  cry  of  anguish.  Another  day 
of  such  unuttered  pain  would  drive  her  clean  mad. 

That  evening  Jonas  came  over  and  sought  an  interview  with 
Cynthy  Ann.  He  had  not  been  to  see  her  since  his  unsuc- 
cessful courtship.  Julia  felt  that  he  was  the  bearer  of  a  mes- 
sage. But  Mrs.  Anderson  was  in  one  of  her  most  exacting  hu- 
mors, and  it  gave  her  not  a  little  pleasure  to  keep  Cynthy  Ann,  on 
one  pretext  and  another,  all  the  evening  at  her  side.  Had  Cyn- 
thy Ann  been  less  submissive  and  scrupulous,  she  might  have 
broken  away  from  this  restraint,  but  in  truth  she  was  censuring 
herself  for  having  any  backsliding,  rebellious  wish  to  talk  with 
Jonas  after  she  had  imagined  the  idol  cast  out  of  her  heart 
entirely.  Her  conscience  was  a  task-master  not  less  grievous 
than  Mrs.  Anderson,  and,  between  the  two,  Jonas  had  to  go  away 
without  leaving  his  message.  And  Julia  had  to  keep  her  break- 
ing heart  in  suspense  a  while  longer. 

Why  did  she  not  elope  long  ago  and,  get  rid  of  her  mother  ? 
Because  she  was  Julia,  and  being  Julia,  conscientious,  true,  and 
filial  in  spite  of  her  unhappy  life,  her  own  character  buili  a  wall 
against  such  a  disobedience.  Nearly  all  limitations  are  inside. 
You  could  do  almost  anything  if  you  could  give  yourself  up  to 
it.  To  go  in  the  teeth  of  one's  family  is  the  one  thing  that  a  per- 
son of  Julia's  character  and  habits  finds  next  to  impossible.  A  be- 
neficent limitation  of  nature ;  for  the  cases  in  which  the  judgment 
of  a  girl  of  eighteen  is  better  than  that  of  her  parents  are  very  few. 
Besides,  the  inevitable  "  heart-disease  "  was  a  specter  that  guarded 
the  gates  of  Julia's  prison.     Night  after  night  she  sat  looking 


210  THE   END   OP  THE   WORLD. 

out  over  the  hills  sleeping  in  hazy  darkness,  toward  the  hollow  in 
which  stood  the  castle ;  night  after  night  she  had  half- formed 
the  purpose  of  visiting  August,  and  then  the  life-long  habit  of 
obedience  and  a  certain  sense  of  delicacy  held  her  back.  But 
on  this  night,  after  the  consultation,  she  felt  that  she  would  see 
him  if  her  seeing  him  brought  down  the  heavens. 

It  was  a  very  dark  night.  She  sat  waiting  for  hours — very 
long  hours  they  seemed  to  her — and  then,  at  midnight,  she  began 
to  get  ready  to  start. 

Only  those  who  have  taken  such  a  step  can  understand  the 
pain  of  deciding,  the  agony  of  misgivings  in  the  execution,  the 
trembling  that  Julia  felt  when  she  turned  the  brass  knob  on  the 
front  door  and  lifted  the  latch — lifted  the  latch  slowly  and  cau- 
tiously, for  it  was  near  the  door  of  her  mother's  room — and  then 
crept  out  like  a  guilty  thing  into  the  dark  dampness  of  the  night, 
groping  her  way  to  the  gate,  and  stumbling  along  down  the  road. 
It  had  been  raining,  and  there  was  not  one  star-twinkle  in  the 
sky ;  the  only  light  was  that  of  glow-worms  illuminating  here 
and  there  two  or  three  blades  of  grass  by  feeble  shining.  Now 
and  then  a  fire-fly  made  a  spot  of  light  in  the  blackness,  only  to 
leave  a  deeper  spot  of  blackness  when  he  shut  off  his  intermittent 
ray.  And  when  at  last  Julia  found  herself  at  the  place  where 
the  path  entered  the  woods,  the  blackness  ahead  seemed  still 
more  frightful.  She  had  to  grope,  recognizing  every  deviation 
from  the  well-beaten  path  by  the  rustle  of  the  dead  leaves  which 
lay,  even  in  summer,  half  a  foot  deep  upon  the  ground.  The 
"  fox-fire,"  rotting  logs  glowing  with  a  faint  luminosity,  startled 
her  several  times,  and  the  hooting-owl's  shuddering  bass — hoo! 
hoo  !  hoo-oo-ah-h !  (like  the  awful  keys  of  the  organ  which 
"touch  the  spinal  cord  of    the  universe")— sent  all  her  blood 


JULIA'S   ENTERPRISE.  211 

to  her  heart.  Under  ordinary  circumstances,  she  surely  would 
not  have  started  at  the  rustling  made  by  the  timid  hare  in  the 
thicket  near  by.  There  was  no  reason  why  she  should  shiver 
so  when  a  misstep  caused  her  to  scratch  her  face  with  the  thorny 
twigs  of  a  wild  plum-tree.  But  the  effort  necessary  to  the  under- 
taking and  the  agony  of  the  long  waiting  had  exhausted  her  ner- 
vous force,  and  she  had  none  left  for  fortitude.  So  that  when  she 
arrived  at  Andrew's  fence  and  felt  her  way  along  to  the  gate,  and 
heard  the  hoarse,  thunderous  baying  of  his  great  St.  Bernard  dog, 
she  was  ready  to  faint.  But  a  true  instinct  makes  such  a  dog 
gallant.  It  is  a  vile  cur  that  will  harm  a  lady.  Julia  walked 
trembling  up  to  the  front-door  of  the  castle,  growled  at  by  the 
huge  black  beast,  and  when  the  Philosopher  admitted  her,  some 
time  after  she  had  knocked,  she  sank  down  fainting  into  a  chair. 


212  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

THE       SECRET       STAIRWAY. 

[OD  bless  you!"  said  Andrew  as  he  handed 
her  a  gourd  of  water  to  revive  her.  "You  are 
as  faithful  as  Hero.  You  are  another  Heloise. 
You  are  as  brave  as  the  Maid  of  Orleans.  I  will 
never  say  that  women  are  unfaithful  again.  God 
bless  you,  my  daughter !  You  have  given  me  faith  in  your  sex. 
I  have  been  a  lonely  man  ;  a  boughless,  leafless  trunk,  shaken  by 
the  winter  winds.  But  you  are  my  niece.  You  know  how  to 
be  faithful.  I  am  proud  of  you  !  Henceforth  I  call  you  my 
daughter.  If  you  were  my  daughter,  you  would  be  to  me  all 
that  Margaret  Roper  was  to  Sir  Thomas  More."  And  the  shaggy 
man  of  egotistic  and  pedantic  speech,  but  of  womanly  sensi- 
bilities, was  weeping. 

The  reviving  Julia  begged  to  know  how  August  was. 
"  Ah,  constant  heart !  And  he  is  constant  as  you  are.  Noble 
fellow  !  I  will  not  deceive  you.  The  doctors  think  that  he  will 
not  live  more  than  twenty-four  hours.  But  he  is  only  dying  to 
see  you,  now.  Your  coming  may  revive  him.  We  sent  for 
you  this  morning  by  Jonas,  hoping  you  might  escape  and  come 


THE  SECRET   STAIRWAY.  213 

in  some  way.  But  Jonas  could  not  get  his  message  to  you. 
Some  angel  must  have  brought  you.    It  is  an  augury  of  good." 

The  hopefulness  of  Andrew  sprang  out  of  his  faith  in  an 
ideal,  right  outcome.  Julia  could  not  conceal  from  herself  the 
fact  that  his  opinion  had  no  ground.  But  in  such  a  strait  as 
hers,  she  could   not  help  clinging  even  to  this  support. 

Andrew  was  a  little  perplexed.  How  to  take  Julia  up-stairs  ? 
Mrs.  Wehle  and  Wilhelmina  and  the  doctor  went  in  regularly, 
not  by  the  rope-ladder,  but  by  a  more  secure  wooden  one  which 
he  had  planted  against  the  outside  of  the  house.  But  Andrew 
had  suddenly  conceived  so  exalted  an  opinion  of  his  niece's 
virtues  that  he  was  unwilling  to  lead  her  into  the  upper  story  in 
that  fashion.  His  imagination  had  invested  her  with  all  the  glo- 
ries of  all  the  heroines,  from  Penelope  to  Beatrice,  and  from 
Beatrice  to  Scott's  Rebecca.  At  last  a  sudden  impulse  seized 
him. 

"  My  dear  daughter,  they  say  that  genius  is  to  madness  close 
allied.  When  I  built  this  house  I  was  in  a  state  bordering  on 
insanity,  I  suppose.  I  pleased  my  whims — my  whims  were  my 
only  company — I  pleased  my  whims  in  building  an  American 
castle.  These  whims  begin  to  seem  childish  to  me  now.  I  put 
in  a  secret  stairway.  No  human  foot  but  my  own  has  ever  trod- 
den it.  August,  whom  I  love  more  than  any  other,  and  who 
is  one  of  the  few  admitted  to  my  library,  has  always  ascended 
by  the  rope-ladder.  But  you  are  my  niece ;  I  would  you  were 
my  daughter.  I  will  signalize  my  reverence  for  you  by  showing 
up  the  stairway  the  woman  who  knows  how  to  love  and  be  faith- 
ful, the  feet  that  would  be  worthy  of  golden  steps  if  I  had  them. 
Come." 

Spite  of  her  grief  and  anxiety,  Julia  was  impressed  and  op- 


214  THE    END    OF   THE    AVOKLD. 

pressed  with,  the  reverence  shown  her  by  her  uncle.  She  had  a 
veneration  almost  superstitious  for  the  Philosopher's  learning. 
She  was  not  accustomed  to  even  respectful  treatment,  and  to  be 
worshiped  in  this  awful  way  by  such  a  man  was  something 
almost  as  painful  as  it  was  pleasant. 

The  entrance  to  the  stairway,  if  that  could  be  called  a  stairway 
which  was  as  difficult  of  ascent  as  a  ladder,  was  through  a  closet 
by  the  side  of  the  donjon  chimney,  and  the  logs  had  been  so  ar- 
ranged without  and  within  that  the  space  occupied  by  the  nar- 
row and  zigzag  stairs  was  not  apparent.  Up  these  stairs  he  took 
Julia,  leaving  her  in  a  closet  above.  As  this  closet  was  situated 
alongside  the  chimney,  it  opened,  of  course,  into  the  small  corner 
room  which  I  have  before  described,  and  in  which  August  was 
now  lying.  Andrew  descended  the  stairs  and  entered  the  upper 
story  again  by  the  outside  ladder.  He  thought  best  to  prepare 
August  for  the  coming  of  Julia,  lest  joy  should  destroy  a  life 
that  was  so  far  wasted. 


THE   INTERVIEW. 


215 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 


THE   INTERVIEW. 


E  left  August  on  that  summer  day  on  the 
levee  at  Louisville  without  employment.  He 
was  not  exactly  disheartened,  but  he  was  home- 
sick. That  he  was  forbidden  to  go  back  by 
threats  of  prosecution  for  his  burglarious  manner 
of  entering  Samuel  Anderson's  house  was  reason  enough  for 
wanting  to  go ;  that  his  father's  family  were  not  yet  free  from 
danger  was  a  stronger  reason ;  but  strongest  of  all,  though  he 
blushed  to  own  it  to  himself,  was  the  longing  to  be  where  he 
might  perchance  sometimes  see  the  face  he  had  seen  that  spring 
morning  in  the  bottom  of  a  sun-bonnet.  Right  manfully  did  he 
fight  against  his  discouragement  and  his  homesickness,  and  his 
longing  to  see  Julia.  It  was  better  to  stay  where  he  was.  It  was 
better  not  to  go  back  beaten.  If  he  surrendered  so  easily,  he 
would  never  put  himself  into  a  situation  where  he  could  claim 
Julia  with  self-respect.  He  would  stay  and  make  his  way  in 
the  world  somehow.  But  making  his  way  in  the  world  did  not 
seem  half  so  easy  now  as  it  had  on  that  other  morning  in  March 
when  he  stood  in  the  barn  talking  to  Julia.  Making  your  for- 
tune always  seems  so  easy  until  you've  tried  it.     It  seems  rather 


216  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

eas)r  in  a  novel,  and  still  easier  in  a  biography.  But  no  Samuel 
Smiles  ever  writes  the  history  of  those  who  fail ;  the  vessels  that 
never  came  back  from  their  venturous  voyages  left  us  no 
log-books.  Many  have  written  the  History  of  Success.  What 
melancholy  Plutarch  shall  arise  to  record,  with  a  pen  dipped  in 
wormwood,  the  History  of  Failure  ? 

No!  he  would  not  go  back  defeated.  August  said  this  over 
bravely,  but  a  little  too  often,  and  with  a  less  resolute  tone  at 
each  repetition.  He  contemned  himself  for  his  weakness,  and 
tried,  but  tried  in  vain,  to  form  other  plans.  Had  he  known 
how  much  one's  physical  state  has  to  do  with  one's  force  of 
character,  he  might  have  guessed  that  he  did  not  deserve  the 
blame  he  meted  out  to  himself.  He  might  have  remembered 
what  Shakespeare's  Portia  says  to  Brutus,  that  "  humour  hath 
his  hour  with  every  man."  But  with  a  dull  and  unaccountable 
aching  in  his  head  and  back  he  compromised  with  himself.  He 
would  go  to  the  castle  and  pass  a  day  or  two.  Then  he  would 
return  and  fight  it  out. 

So  he  got  on  the  packet  Isaac  Shelby,  and  was  soon  shaking 
with  a  chill  that  showed  how  thoroughly  malaria  had  pervaded 
his  system.  His  very  bones  seemed  frozen.  But  if  you  ever 
shook  with  such  a  chill,  or  rather  if  you  were  ever  shaken  by 
such  a  chill,  taking  hold  of  you  like  a  demoniacal  possession ; 
if  you  ever  felt  your  brain  congealing,  your  icy  bones  breaking, 
your  frosty  heart  becoming  paralyzed,  with  a  cold  no  fire  could 
reach,  you  know  what  it  is ;  and  if  you  have  not  felt  it,  no 
words  of  mine  can  make  you  understand  the  sensations.  After 
the  chill  came  the  period  when  August  felt  himself  between  two 
parts  of  Milton's  hell,  between  a  sea  of  ice  and  a  sea  of  fire; 
sometimes  the  hot  wave  scorched  him,  then  it  retired  again  before 


THE   INTERVIEW.  217 

the  icy  one.  At  last  it  was  all  hot,  and  the  boiling  blood  scalded 
his  palms  and  steamed  to  his  brain,  bewildering  his  thoughts 
and  almost  blinding  his  eyes.  He  had  determined  when  he 
started  to  get  off  at  a  wood-yard  three  miles  below  Andrew's 
castle,  to  avoid  observation  and  the  chance  of  arrest ;  and  now 
in  his  delirium  the  purpose  as  he  had  planned  it  remained  fixed. 
He  got  up  at  two  o'clock,  crazed  with  fever,  dressed  himself,  and 
went  out  into  the  rainy  night.  He  went  ashore  in  the  mud 
and  bushes,  and,  guided  more  by  instinct  than  by  any  conscious 
thought,  he  started  up  the  wagon-track  along  the  river  bank. 
His  furious  fever  drove  him  on,  talking  to  himself,  and  splashing 
recklessly  into  the  pools  of  rain-water  standing  in  the  road. 
He  never  remembered  his  debarkation.  He  must  have  fallen  once 
or  twice,  for  he  was  covered  with  mud  when  he  rang  the  alarm 
at  the  castle.  In  answer  to  Andrew's  "Who's  there?"  he 
answered,  "  You'll  have  to  send  a  harder  rain  than  that  if  you 
want  to  put  this  fire  out!" 

And  so,  what  with  the  original  disease,  the  mental  discourage- 
ment, and  the  exposure  to  the  rain,  the  fever  had  well-nigh  con- 
sumed the  life,  and  now  that  the  waves  of  the  hot  sea  after  days 
of  fire  and  nights  of  delirium  had  gone  back,  there  was  hardly 
any  life  left  in  the  body,  and  the  doctors  said  there  was  no 
hope.  One  consuming  desire  remained.  He  wanted  to  see  Julia 
once  before  he  went  away ;  and  that  one  desire  it  seemed  impos- 
sible to  gratify.  When  he  learned  of  the  failure  of  Jonas  to  get 
any  message  to  Julia  through  Cynthy,  he  had  felt  the  keenest 
disappointment,  and  had  evidently  been  sinking  since  the  hope 
that  kept  him  up  had  been  taken  away. 

The  mother  sat  by  his  bed,  Gottlieb  sat  stupefied  at  the  foot, 
with  Jonas  by  his  side,  and  Wilhelmina  was  crying  in  a  still 


218  THE    END   OP  THE   WORLD. 

fashion    in    one    corner   of   the  room.      August  lay  breathing 
feebly,  and  with  his  life  evidently  ebbing. 

"  August ! "  said  Andrew,  as  he  stood  over  his  bed,  having 
come  to  announce  the  arrival  of  Julia.  "  August ! "  Andrew 
tried  to  speak  quietly,  but  there  was  a  something  of  hope  in  the 
inflection,  a  tremor  of  eagerness  in  the  utterance,  that  made  the 
mother  look  up  quickly  and  inquiringly 

August  opened  his  eyes  slowly  and  looked  into  the  face  of  the 
Philosopher.     Then  he  slowly  closed  his  eyes  again,  and  a  some- 
thing, not  a  smile — he  was  too  weak  for  that — but  a  look  of 
infinite  content,  spread  over  his  wan  face. 
"  I  know,"  he  whisperd. 

"Know  what?"    asked  Andrew,  leaning   down  to  catch  his 
words. 

"  Julia. "  And  a  single  tear  crept  out  from  under  the  closed 
lid.     The  tender  mother  wiped  it  away. 

After  resting  a  moment,  August  looked  up  at  Andrew's  face 
inquiringly. 

"  She  is  coming,"  said  the  Philosopher. 

August  smiled  very  faintly,  but  Andrew  was  sure  he  smiled, 
and  again  leaned  down  his  ear. 

"  She  is  here,"  whispered  August ;  "  I  heard  Charon  bark,  and 
I — saw — your — face." 

Andrew  now  stepped  to  the  closet-door  and  opened  it,  and 
Julia  came  out.  * 

"  Blamed  ef  he  a'n't  a  witch  ! "  whispered  Jonas.  "  Cunjures 
a  angel  out  of  his  cupboard ! " 

Julia  did  not  see  anybody  or  anything  but  the  white  and 
wasted  face  upon  the  pillow.  The  eyes  were  now  closed  again, 
and   she  quickly  crossed  the  floor,  and— not   without  a  faint 


THE   INTERVIEW.  219 

maidenly  blush — stooped  and  kissed  the  parched  lips,  from  which 
the  life  seemed  already  to  have  fled. 

And  August  with  difficulty  disengaged  his  wasted  hand  from 
the  cover,  and  laid  his  nerveless  fingers — alas !  like  a  skeleton's 
now — in  the  warm  hand  of  Julia,  and  said — she  leaned  down  to 
listen,  as  he  whispered  feebly  through  his  dry  lips  out  of  a  full 
heart—"  Thank  God  ! " 

And  the  Philosopher,  catching  the  words,  said  audibly, 
"  Amen  ! " 

And  the  mother  only  wept. 


220 


THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 


GETTING    READY   FOR   THE   END. 


OW  Julia  spent  two  hours  of  blessed  sadness 
at  the  castle;  how  August  slept  peacefully  for 
five  minutes  at  a  time  with  his  hand  in  hers,  and 
then  awoke  and  looked  at  her,  and  then  slum- 
bered again;  how  she  moistened  his  parched  lips 
for  him,  and  gave  him  wine ;  how  at  last  she  had  to  bid  him 
a  painful  farewell ;  how  the  mother  gave  her  a  benediction 
in  German  and  a  kiss ;  how  Wilhelmina  clung  to  her  with 
tears;  how  Jonas  called  her  a  turtle-dove  angel;  how  Brother 
Hall,  the  preacher  who  had  been  sent  for  at  the  mother's  request, 
to  converse  with  the  dying  man,  spoke  a  few  consoling  words  to 
her ;  how  Gottlieb  confided  to  Jonas  his  intention  never  to 
"  sprach  nodin  'pout  Yangee  kirls  no  more ; "  and  how  at  last 
Uncle  Andrew  walked  home  with  her,  I  have  not  time  to  tell. 
When  the  Philosopher  bade  her  adieu,  he  called  her  names 
which  she  did  not  understand.  But  she  turned  back  to  him, 
and  after  a  minute's  hesitation,  spoke  huskily.  "  Uncle  Andrew 
if  he— if  he  should  get  worse — I  want " 


GETTING    EEADT    FOE   THE   END.  221 

"  I  know,  my  daughter ;  you  want  him  to  die  your  husband  ?  M 

"  Yes,  if  he  wishes  it.  Send  for  me  day  or  night,  and  I'll 
come  in  spite  of  everybody." 

"  God  bless  you,  my  daughter ! "  said  Andrew.  And  he 
watched  until  she  got  safely  into  the  house  without  discovery,  and 
then  he  went  back  satisfied  and  proud. 

Of  course  August  died,  and  Julia  devoted  herself  to  philan- 
thropic labors.  It  is  the  fashion  now  for  novels  to  end  thus 
sadly,  and  you  would  not  have  me  be  out  of  the  fashion. 

But  August  did  not  die.  Joy  is  a  better  stimulant  than  wine. 
Love  is  the  best  tonic  in  the  pharmacopeia.  And  from  the  hour 
in  which  August  Wehle  looked  into  the  eyes  of  Julia,  the  tide  of 
life  set  back  again.  Not  perceptibly  at  first.  For  two  days  he 
was  neither  better  nor  worse.  But  this  was  a  gain.  Then  slowly 
he  came  back  to  life.  But  at  Andrew's  instance  he  kept  in- 
doors while  Humphreys  staid. 

Humphreys,  on  his  part,  like  Ananias,  pretended  to  have 
disposed  of  all  his  property,  paid  his  debts,  reserved  enough  to 
live  on  until  the  approaching  day  of  doom,  and  given  the 
rest  to  the  poor  of  the  household  of  faith,  and  there  were  several 
others  who  were  sincere  enough  to  do  what  he  only  pretended. 
Among  the  leading  Adventists  was  "Dr."  Ketchup,  who  still 
dealt  out  corn-sweats  and  ginseng-tea,  but  who  refused  to  sell 
his  property.  He  excused  himself  by  quoting  the  injunction, 
"  Occupy  till  I  come."  But  others  sold  their  estates  for  trifles, 
and  gave  themselves  up  to  proclaiming  the  millennium. 

Mrs.  Abigail  Anderson  was  a  woman  who  did  nothing  by 
halves.  She  was  vixenish,  she  was  selfish,  she  was  dishonest  and 
grasping ;  but  she  was  religious.  If  any  man  think  this  paradox 
impossible,  he  has  observed  character  superficially.     There  are 


222  THE    END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

criminals  in  State's-prison  who  have  been  very  devout  all  their 
lives.  Religious  questions  took  hold  of  Mrs.  Anderson's  whole 
nature.  She  was  superstitious,  narrow,  and  intense.  She  was 
as  sure  that  the  day  of  judgment  would  be  proclaimed  on  the 
eleventh  of  August,  1843,  as  she  was  of  her  life.  No  considera- 
tion in  opposition  to  any  belief  of  hers  weighed  a  feather  with 
her.     Her  will  mastered  her  judgment  and  conscience. 

And  so  she  determined  that  Samuel  must  sell  his  property 
for  a  trifle.  How  far  she  was  influenced  in  this  by  a  sincere 
desire  to  square  all  outstanding  debts  before  the  final  settlement, 
how  far  by  a  longing  to  be  considered  the  foremost  and  most 
pious  of  all,  and  how  far  by  business  shrewdness  based  on  that 
feeling  which  still  lurks  in  the  most  protestant  people,  that  such 
sacrifices  do  improve  their  state  in  a  future  world,  I  can  not 
tell.  Doubtless  fanaticism,  hypocrisy,  and  a  self-interest  that 
looked  sordidly  even  at  heaven,  mingled  in  bringing  about  the 
decision.  At  any  rate,  the  property  was  to  be  sold  for  a  few 
hundred  dollars. 

Getting  wind  of  this  decision,  Andrew  promptly  appeared 
at  his  brother's  house  and  offered  to  buy  it.  But  Mrs.  Abigail 
couldn't  think  of  it.  Andrew  had  always  been  her  enemy,  and 
though  she  forgave  him,  she  would  not  on  any  account  sell 
him  an  inch  of  the  land.  It  would  not  be  right.  He  had  claimed 
that  part  of  it  belonged  to  him,  and  to  let  him  have  it  would  be 
to  admit  his  claim. 

i  "  Andrew,"  she  said,  "  you  do  not  believe  in  the  millennium, 
and  people  say  that  you  are  a  skeptic.  You  want  to  cheat  us  out 
of  what  you  think  a  valuable  piece  of  property.  And  you'll  find 
yourself  at  the  last  judgment  with  the  weight  of  this  sin  on 
your  heart.    You  will,  indeed  ! " 


GETTING   READY   FOB   THE    END.  223 

"How  clearly  you  reason  about  other  people's  duty!"  said 
the  Philosopher.  "If  you  had  seen  your  own  duty  half  so 
clearly,  some  of  us  would  have  been  better  off,  and  your  account 
would  have  been  straighter." 

Here  Mrs.  Anderson  grew  very  angry,  and  vented  her  spleen 
in  a  solemn  exhortation  to  Andrew  to  get  ready  for  the  coming 
of  the  Master,  not  three  weeks  off  at  the  farthest,  and  she  warned 
him  that  the  archangel  might  blow  his  trumpet  at  any  moment. 
Then  where  would  he  be?  she  asked  in  exultation.  Human 
meanness  is  never  so  pitiful  as  when  it  tries  to  seize  on  God's 
judgments  as  weapons  with  which  to  gratify  its  own  spites.  I 
trust  this  remark  will  not  be  considered  as  applying  only  to  Mrs. 
Anderson. 

But  Mrs.  Anderson  fired  off  all  the  heavenly  small-shot  she 
could  find  in  the  teeth  and  eyes  of  Andrew,  and  then,  to  prevent 
a  rejoinder,  she  told  him  it  was  time  for  her  to  go  to  secret 
prayer,  and  she  only  stopped  upon  the  threshold  to  send  back 
one  Parthian  arrow  in  the  shape  of  a  warning  to  "  watch  and 
be  ready." 

I  wonder  if  a  certain  class  of  religious  people  have  ever 
thought  how  much  their  exclusiveness  and  Pharisaism  have  to  do 
with  the  unhappy  fruitlessness  of  all  their  appeals !  Had  Mrs. 
Anderson  been  as  blameless  as  an  angel,  such  exhortations  would 
have  driven  a  weaker  than  Andrew  to  hate  the  name  of  religion. 

But  I  must  not  moralize,  for  Mr.  Humphreys  has  already 
divulged  his  plan  of  disposing  of  the  property.  He  has  a 
friend,  one  Thomas  A.  Parkins,  who  has  money,  and  who  will 
buy  the  farm  at  two  hundred  dollars.  He  could  procure  the 
money  in  advance  any  day  by  going  to  the  village  of  Bethany, 
the  county-seat,  and  drawing  on  Mr.  Parkins,  and  cashing  the 


224  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

draft.  It  -was  a  matter  of  indifference  to  him,  he  said,  only 
that  he  would  like  to  oblige  so  good  a  friend. 

This  arrangement,  by  which  the  Anderson  farm  was  to  be  sold 
for  a  song  to  some  distant  stranger,  pleased  Mrs.  Abigail.  She 
could  not  bear  that  one  of  her  unbelieving  neighbors  should  even 
for  a  fortnight  rejoice  in  a  supposed  good  bargain  at  her  expense. 
To  sell  to  Mr.  Humphreys's  friend  in  Louisville  was  just  the 
thing.  When  pressed  by  some  of  her  neighbors  who  had  not  re- 
ceived the  Adventist  gospel,  to  tell  on  what  principle  she  could 
justify  her  sale  of  the  farm  at  all,  she  answered  that  if  the  farm 
would  not  be  of  any  account  after  the  end  of  the  world,  neither 
would  the  money. 

Mr.  Humphreys  went  down  to  the  town  of  Bethany  and  came 
back,  affecting  to  have  cashed  a  draft  on  his  friend  for  two  hun- 
dred dollars.  The  deeds  were  drawn,  and  a  justice  of  the  peace 
was  to  come  the  next  morning  and  take  the  acknowledgment  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Anderson. 

This  was  what  Jonas  learned  as  he  sat  in  the  kitchen  talking 
to  Cynthy  Ann.  He  had  come  to  bring  some  message  from  the 
convalescent  August,  and  had  been  detained  by  the  attraction 
of  adhesion. 

"  I  told  you  it  was  fox-and-geese.  Didn't  I  ?  And  so  Thomas 
A.  Parkins  is  his  name.  Gus  Wehle  said  he'd  bet  the  two  was 
one.  Well,  I  must  drive  this  varmint  off  afore  he  gits  his 
chickens." 


THE   SIN   OP   SANCTIMONY.  225 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

THE     SIN     OF      SANCTIMONY. 

'UST  at  this  point  arrived  Mr.  Hall,  whom  I  have 
before  described  as  the  good  but  callow  Meth- 
odist preacher  on  the  circuit.  Some  people  think  that 
a  minister  of  the  gospel  should  be  exempt  from  criti- 
cism, ridicule,  and  military  duty.  But  the  manly  min- 
ister takes  his  lot  with  the  rest.  Nothing  could  be  more  pernicious 
than  making  the  foibles  of  a  minister  sacred.  Doubtless  Mr. 
Hall  has  long  since  come  to  laugh  at  his  own  early  follies,  his 
official  sanctimoniousness,  and  all  that ;  and  why  should  not  I, 
who  have  been  a  callow  circuit-preacher  myself  in  my  day, 
laugh  at  my  Brother  Hall,  for  the  good  of  his  kind  ? 

He  had  come  to  visit  Sister  Cynthy  Ann,  whose  name  had 
long  stood  on  the  class-book  at  Harden 's  Cross-Roads  as  a  good 
and  acceptable  member  of  the  church  in  full  connection.  He.  was 
visiting  formally  and  officially  each  family  in  which  there  was  a 
member.  Had  he  visited  informally  and  unofficially,  and  like  a 
man  instead  of  like  a  minister,  he  would  have  done  more  good. 
But  he  came  to  Samuel  Anderson's,  and  informed  Mrs.  Anderson 
that  he  was  visiting  his  members,  and  that  as  one  of  her  house- 


226  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

hold  was  a  member,  he  would  like  to  have  a  little  religious  con- 
versation and  prayer  with  the  family.  Would  she  please  gather 
them  together? 

So  Julia  was  called  down-stairs,  and  Jonas  was  invited  in 
from  the  kitchen.  The  sight  of  him  distressed  Brother  Hall. 
For  was  not  this  New  Light  sent  here  by  Satan  to  lead  astray 
one  of  his  flock  ?  But,  at  least,  he  would  labor  faithfully  with 
him. 

He  began  with  Mr.  Samuel  Anderson.  But  that  worthy,  after 
looking  at  his  wife  in  vain  for  a  cue,  darted  off  about  the  trum- 
pets of  the  Apocalypse. 

"Mr.  Anderson,  as  head  of  this  family,  your  responsibility 
is  very  great.  Do  you  feel  the  full  assurance,  my  brother?" 
asked  Mr.  Hall. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Anderson,  "  I  am  standing  with  my  lamp 
trimmed  and  ready.  I  am  listening  for  the  midnight  shout.  To- 
night the  trumpet  may  sound.  I  am  afraid  you  don't  do  your 
duty,  or  you  would  lift  up  your  voice.  The  time  and  times  and 
a  half  are  almost  out." 

Mr.  Hall  was  a  little  dashed  at  this.  A  man  whose  religious 
conversation  is  of  a  set  and  conventional  type,  is  always  shocked 
and  jostled  when  he  is  thrown  from  the  track.  And  he  him- 
self, like  everybody  else,  had  felt  the  Adventist  infection,  and 
did  not  want  to  commit  himself.  So  he  turned  to  Mrs.  Ander- 
son. She  answered  like  a  seraph  every  question  put  to  her — the 
conventional  questions  never  pierce  the  armor  of  a  hypocrite  or 
startle  the  conscience  of  a  self-deceiver.  Mr.  Hall  congratu- 
lated her  in  his  most  official  tone  (a  compound  of  authority, 
awfulness,  and  sanctity)  on  her  deep  experience  of  the  things  that 
made  for  her  everlasting  peace.     He  told  her  that  people  of  her 


THE    SIN   OF   SANCTIMONY.  229 

high  attainments  must  beware  of  spiritual  pride.  And  Mrs.  An- 
derson took  the  warning  with  beautiful  meekness,  sinking  into 
forty  fathoms  of  undisguised  and  rather  ostentatious  humility, 
heaving  solemn  sighs  in  token  of  self-reproach — a  self-reproach 
that  did  not  penetrate  the  cuticle. 

"  And  you,  Sister  Cynthy  Ann,"  he  said,  fighting  shy  of  Jonas 
for  the  present,  "  I  trust  you  are  trying  to  let  your  light  shine. 
Do  you  feel  that  you  are  pressing  on?" 

Poor  Cynthy  Ann  sank  into  a  despondency  deeper  than  usual. 
She  was  afeard  not.  Seemed  like  as  ef  her  heart  was  cold 
and  dead  to  God.  Seemed  like  as  ef  she  couldn't  no  ways  gin 
up  the  world.  It  weighed  her  down  like  a  rock,  and  many  was 
the  fight  she  had  with  the  enemy.    No,  she  wuzn't  getting  on. 

"  My  dear  sister,"  said  Mr.  Hall,  "  let  me  warn  you.  Here  is 
Mrs.  Anderson,  who  has  given  up  the  world  entirely.  I  hope 
you'll  follow  so  good  an  example.  Do  not  be  led  astray  by 
worldly  affections ;  they  are  sure  to  entrap  you.  I  am  afraid  you 
have  not  maintained  your  steadfastness  as  you  should."  Here 
Mr.  Hall's  eye  wandered  doubtfully  to  Jonas,  of  whom  he  felt 
a  little  afraid.  Jonas,  on  his  part,  had  no  reason  to  like  Mr. 
Hall  for  his  advice  in  Cynthy's  love  affair,  and  now  the  minister's 
praises  of  Mrs.  Anderson  and  condemnation  of  Cynthy  Ann 
had  not  put  him  in  any  mood  to  listen  to  exhortation. 

"  "Well,  Mr.  Harrison,"  said  the  young  minister  solemnly, 
approaching  Jonas  much  as  a  dog  does  a  hedgehog,  "how  do 
you  feel  to-day  ?  " 

"  Middlin'  peart,  I  thank  you ;  how's  yourself  ?  " 

This  upset  the  good  man  not  a  little,  and  convinced  him  that 
Jonas  was  in  a  state  of  extreme  wickedness. 
"Are  you  a  Christian?" 


230  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

"  Wal,  I  'low  I  am.  How  about  yourself,  Mr.  Hall  ? " 
"  I  believe  you  are  a  New  Light.  Now,  do  you  believe  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ?"  asked  the  minister  in  an  annihilating  tone. 
"  Yes,  I  do,  my  aged  friend,  a  heap  sight  more'n  I  do  in  some 
of  them  that  purtends  to  hev  a  paytent  right  on  all  his  blessins, 
and  that  put  on  solemn  airs  and  call  other  denominations  hard 
names.  My  friend,  I  don't  believe  in  no  religion  that's  made  up 
of  sighs  and  groans  and  high  temper"  (with  a  glance  at  Mrs.  An- 
derson), "  and  that  thinks  a  good  deal  more  of  its  bein'  sound  in 
doctrine  than  of  the  danger  of  bein'  rotten  in  life.  They's  lots  o' 
bad  eggs  got  slick  and  shiny  shells ! " 

Mr.  Hall  happened  to  think  just  here  of  the  injunction  against 
throwing  pearls  before  swine,  and  so  turned  to  Humphreys,  who 
made  his  heart  glad  by  witnessing  a  good  confession,  in  soft 
and  unctuous  tones,  and  couched  in  the  regulation  phrases  which 
have  worn  smooth  in  long  use. 

Julia  had  slunk  away  in  a  corner.  But  now  he  appealed  to 
her  also. 

"  Blest  with  a  praying  mother,  you,  Miss  Anderson,  ought  to 
repent  of  your  sins  and  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come.  You  know 
the  right  way.  You  have  been  pointed  to  it  by  the  life  of  your 
parents  from  childhood.  Reared  in  the  bosom  of  a  Christian 
household,  let  me  entreat  you  to  seek  salvation  immediately." 

I  do  not  like  to  repeat  this  talk  here.  But  it  is  an  unfor- 
tunate fact  that  goodness  and  self-sacrificing  piety  do  not  always 
go  with  practical  wisdom.  The  novelist,  like  the  historian,  must 
set  down  things  as  he  finds  them.  A  man  who  talks  in  conse- 
crated phrases  is  yet  in  the  poll-parrot  state  of  mental  development. 
"  Do  you  feel  a  desire  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come  ? " 
he  asked 


THE    SIX    OF    SANCTIMONY.  231 

• 

Julia  gave  some  sort  of  inaudible  assent. 

"  My  dear  young  sister,  you  have  great  reason  to  be  thankful — 
very  great  reason  for  gratitude  to  Almighty  God."  (Like  many 
other  pious  young  men,  Mr.  Hall  said  Gawd.)  "  I  met  you  the 
other  night  at  your  uncle's.  The  young  man  whose  life  we  then 
despaired  of  has  recovered."  And  with  more  of  this,  Mr.  Hall 
told  Julia's  secret,  while  Mrs.  Anderson,  between  her  anger  and 
her  rapt  condition  of  mind,  seemed  to  be  petrifying. 

I  trust  the  reader  does  not  expect  me  to  describe  the  feelings 
of  Julia  while  Mr.  Hall  read  a  chapter  and  prayed.  Nor  the 
emotions  of  Mrs.  Anderson.'  I  think  if  Mr.  Hall  could  have 
heard  her  grind  her  teeth  while  he  in  his  prayer  gave  thanks  for 
the  recovery  of  August,  he  would  not  have  thought  so  highly 
of  her  piety.  But  she  managed  to  control  her  emotions  until 
the  minister  was  fairly  out  of  the  house.  In  bidding  good-by, 
Mr.  Hall  saw  how  pale  and  tremulous  Julia  was,  and  with  his 
characteristic  lack  of  sagacity,  he  took  her  emotion  to  be  a  sign 
of  religious  feeling,  and  told  her  he  was  pleased  to  see  that  she 
was  awakened  to  a  sense  of  her  condition. 

And  then  he  left.      And  then  came  the  deluge. 


232  THE   END    OF   THE   WORLD. 


CHAPTER    XXXVn. 

THE    DELUGE. 

'HE  indescribable  deluge !  But,  after  all,  the  worst 
of  anything  of  that  sort  is  the  moment  before  it 
begins.  A  plunge-bath,  a  tooth-pulling,  an  amputa- 
tion, and  a  dress-party  are  all  worse  in  anticipation 
than  in  the  moment  of  infliction.  Julia,  as  she  stood 
busily  sticking  a  pin  in  the  window-sash,  waiting  for  her  mother 
to  begin,  wished  that  the  storm  might  burst,  and  be  done  with  it. 
But  Mrs.  Anderson  understood  her  business  too  well  for  that. 
She  knew  the  value  of  the  awful  moments  of  silence  before  be- 
ginning. She  bad  not  practiced  all  her  life  without  learning  the 
fine  art  of  torture  in  its  exquisite  details.  I  doubt  not  the  black- 
robed  fathers  of  the  Holy  Office  were  leisurely  gentlemen,  giv- 
ing their  victims  plenty  of  time  for  anticipatory  meditation, 
laying  out  their  utensils  quietly,  inspecting  the  thumb-screw 
affectionately  to  make  sure  that  it  would  work  smoothly,  dis- 
cussing the  rack  and  wheel  with  much  tender  forethought,  as 
though  torture  were  a  sweet  thing,  to  be  reserved  like  a  little 
girl's  candy  lamb,  and  only  resorted  to  when  the  appetite  has 


THE    DELUGE.  233 

been  duly  whetted  by  contemplation.  I  never  bad  the  pleasure 
of  knowing-  an  inquisitor,  and  I  can  not  certify  that  they  were  of 
this  deliberate  fashion.  But  it  "  stands  to  nature"  that  they  were. 
For  the  vixens  who  are  vixens  of  the  highest  quality,  are  always 
deliberate. 

Mrs.  Anderson  felt  that  the  piece  of  invective  which  she 
was  about  to  undertake,  was  not  to  be  taken  in  hand  unad- 
visedly, "  but  reverently,  discreetly,  and  in  the  fear  of  God." 
And  so  she  paused,  and  Julia  fumbled  the  tassel  of  the  win- 
dow-curtain, and  trembled  with  the  chill  of  expectation.  And 
Mrs.  Abigail  continued  to  debate  how  she  might  make  this, 
which  would  doubtless  be  her  last  outburst  before  the  day  of 
judgment,  her  masterpiece — worthy  song  of  the  dying  swan. 
And  then  she  hoped,  she  sincerely  hoped,  to  be  able  by  this 
awful  coup  de  main  to  awaken  Julia  to  a  sense  of  her  sinfulness. 
For  there  was  such  a  jumble  of  mixed  motives  in  her  mind,  that 
one  could  never  distinguish  her  sincerity  from  her  hypocrisy. 

Mrs.  Anderson's  conscience  was  quite  an  objective  one.  As 
Jonas  often  remarked,  "  she  had  a  feelin'  sense  of  other  folkses 
unworthiness."  And  the  sins  which  she  appreciated  were  gener- 
ally sins  against  herself.  Julia's  disobedience  to  herself  was 
darker  in  her  mind  than  murder  committed  on  anybody  else 
would  have  been.  And  now  she  sat  deliberating,  not  on  the 
limit  of  the  verbal  punishment  she  meant  to  inflict — that  gave 
her  no  concern — but  on  her  ability  to  do  the  matter  justice. 
Even  as  a  tyrannical  backwoods  school-master  straightens  his  long 
beech-rod  relishfully  before  applying  it. 

Not  that  Mrs.  Anderson  was  silent  all  this  time.  She  was 
sighing  and  groaning  in  a  spasmodic  devotion.  She  was  "  seek- 
ing strength  from  above  to  do  her  whole  duty,"  she  would  have 


284  THE   END    OP   THE   WORLD. 

told  you.  She  was  "agonizing"  in  prayer  for  her  daughter, 
and  she  contrived  that  her  stage-whisper  praying  should  now  and 
then  reach  the  ears  of  its  devoted  object.  Humphreys  remained 
seated,  pretending  to  read  the  copy  of  "  Josephus,"  but  watching 
the  coming  storm  with  the  interest  of  a  connoisseur.  And  while 
he  remained  Jonas  determined  to  stay,  to  keep  Julia  in  coun- 
tenance, and  he  beckoned  to  Cynthy  to  stay  also.  And  Samuel 
Anderson,  who  loved  his  daughter  and  feared  his  wife,  fled 
like  a  coward  from  the  coming  scene.  Everybody  expected  Mrs. 
Anderson  to  break  out  like  a  fury. 

But  she  knew  a  better  plan  than  that.  She  felt  a  new  de- 
vice come  like  an  inspiration.  And  perhaps  it  was.  It  really 
seemed  to  Jonas  that  the  devil  helped  her.  For  instead  of  break- 
ing out  into  commonplace  scolding,  the  resources  of  which  she 
had  long  since  exhausted,  she  dropped  upon  her  knees,  and 
began  to  pray  for  Julia. 

No  swearer  ever  curses  like  the  priest  who  veils  his  personal 
spites  in  official  and  pious  denunciations,  and  Mrs.  Anderson  had 
never  dealt  out  abuse  so  roundly  and  terribly  and  crush  ingly,  as 
she  did  under  the  guise  of  praying  for  the  salvation  of  Julia's 
soul  from  well-deserved  perdition.  But  Abigail  did  not  say  per- 
dition. She  left  that  to  weak  spirits.  She  thought  it  a  virtue 
to  say  "hell"  with  unction  and  emphasis,  by  way  of  alarming 
the  consciences  of  sinners.  Mrs.  Anderson's  prayer  is  not  re- 
portable. That  sort  of  profanity  is  too  bad  to  write.  She 
capped  her  climax — even  as  I  have  heard  a  revivalist  pray  for  a 
scoffer  that  had  vexed  his  righteous  soul — by  asking  God  to  con- 
vert her  daughter,  or  if  she  could  not  be  converted  to  take  her 
away,  that  she  might  not  heap  up  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath. 
For  that  sort  of  religious  excitement  which  does  not  quiet  the 


THE    DELUGE.  235 

evil  passions,  seems  to  inflame  them,  and  Mrs.  Anderson  was  not 
in  any  right  sense  sane.  And  the  prayer  was  addressed  more  to 
the  frightened  Julia  than  to  God.  She  would  have  been  terribly 
afflicted  had  her  petition  been  granted. 

Julia  would  have  run  away  from  the  admonition  which  fol- 
lowed the  prayer,  had  it  not  been  that  Mrs.  Anderson  adroitly 
put  it  under  cover  of  a  religious  exhortation.  She  besought 
Julia  to  repent,  and  then,  affecting  to  show  her  her  sinful- 
ness, she  proceeded  to  abuse  her. 

Had  Julia  no  temper  ?  Yes,  she  had  doubtless  a  spice  of  her 
mother's  anger  without  her  meanness.  She  would  have  resisted, 
but  that  from  childhood  she  had  felt  paralyzed  by  the  utter  use- 
lessness  of  all  resistance.  The  bravest  of  the  villagers  at  the  foot 
of  Vesuvius  never  dreamed  of  stopping  the  crater's  mouth. 

But,  happily,  at  last  Mrs.  Anderson's  insane  wrath  went  a  little 
too  far. 

"  You  poor  lost  sinner,"  she  said,  "  to  think  you  should  go  to 
destruction  under  my  very  eyes,  disgracing  us  all,  by  running 
over  the  country  at  night  with  bad  men !  But  there's  mercy 
even  for  such  as  you." 

Julia  would  not  have  understood  the  full  meaning  of  this  as- 
persion of  her  purity,  had  she  not  caught  Humphreys's  eye.  His 
expression,  half  sneer,  half  leer,  seemed  to  give  her  mother's  say- 
ing its  full  interpretation.  She  put  out  her  hand.  She  turned 
white,  and  said :  "  Say  one  word  more,  and  I  will  go  away  from 
you  and  never  come  back  !  Never  ! "  And  then  she  sat  down  and 
cried,  and  then  Mrs.  Anderson's  maternal  love,  her  "unloving 
love,"  revived.  To  have  her  daughter  leave  her,  too,  would  be  a 
sort  of  defeat.  She  hushed,  and  sat  down  in  her  splint-bottomed 
rocking-chair,  which  snapped  when  she  rocked,  and  which  seemed 


236  THE   END    OP   THE   WORLD. 

to  speak  for  her  after  she  had  shut  her  mouth.  Her  face  settled 
into  a  martyr-like  appeal  to  Heaven  in  proof  of  the  justice  of  her 
cause.  And  then  she  fell  back  on  her  forlorn  hope.  She  wept 
hysterically,  in  sincere  self-pity,  to  think  that  an  affectionate 
mother  should  have  such  a  daughter! 

Julia,  finding  that  her  mother  had  desisted,  went  to  her  room. 
She  did  not  exactly  pray,  but  she  talked  to  herself  as  she  paced 
the  floor.  It  was  a  monologue,  and  yet  there  was  a  conscious 
appeal  to  an  invisible  Presence,  who  could  not  misjudge  her,  and 
so  she  passed  from  talking  to  herself  to  talking  to  God,  and  that 
without  any  of  the  formality  of  prayer.  Her  mother  had  made 
God  seem  to  be  against  her.  Now  she,  like  David,  protested  her 
innocence  to  God.  She  recited  half  to  herself,  and  yet  also  to 
God — for  is  not  every  appeal  to  one's  conscience  in  some  sense 
an  appeal  to  God  ? — she  recited  all  the  struggles  of  that  night 
when  she  went  to  August  at  the  castle.  People  talk  of  the  con- 
solation there  is  in  God's  mercy.  But  Julia  found  comfort  in 
God's  justice.    He  could  not  judge  her  wrongly 

Then  she  opened  the  Testament  at  the  old  place,  and  read 
the  words  long  since  fixed  in  her  memory.  And  then  she — 
weary  and  heavy  laden — came  again  to  Him  who  invites,  and 
found  rest.  And  then  she  found,  as  many  another  has  found, 
that  coming  to  God  is  not,  as  theorists  will  have  it,  a  coming  once 
for  a  lifetime,  but  a  coming  oft  and  ever  repeated. 

Jonas  and  Cynthy  Ann  retired  to  the  kitchen,  and  the  former 
said  in  his  irreverent  way,  "  Blamed  ef  Abigail  ha'nt  got  more 
devils  into  hei^n  Mary  Magdalene  had  the  purtiest  day  she  ever 
seed  !  I  should  think,  arter  a  life  with  her  fer  a  mother,  the  bad 
place  would  be  a  healthy  and  delightful  clime.  The  devil  a'n't 
a  patchin'  to  her." 


THE    DELUGE.  237 

"  Don't,  Jonas ;  you  talk  so  cur'us,  like  as  ef  you  was  kinder 
sorter  wicked." 

"That's  jest  what  I  am,  my  dear,  but  Abigail  Anderson's 
wicked  without  the  kinder  sorter.  She  cusses  when  she's  a- 
prayin'.  She  cusses  that  poar  gal  right  in  the  Lord's  face. 
Good  by,  I  must  go.  Smells  so  all-fired  like  brimstone  about 
here."  This  last  was  spoken  in  an  undertone  of  indignant 
soliloquy,  as  he  crossed  the  threshold  of  Cynthy's  clean  kitchen. 


238  THE   END   OP  THE   WORLD. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 


SCARING    A    HAWK. 


'ONAS  was  thoroughly  alarmed.  He  exagger- 
ated the  harm  that  Humphreys  might  do  to 
August,  now  that  he  knew  where  he  was.  Au- 
gust, on  his  part,  felt  sure  that  Humphreys  would 
not  do  anything  against  him ;  certainly  not  in  the 
way  of  legal  proceedings.  And  as  for  the  sale  of  Samuel 
Anderson's  farms,  that  did  not  disturb  him.  Like  almost 
everybody  else  at  that  time,  August  Wehle  was  strongly  im- 
pressed by  the  assertions  of  the  Millerites,  and  if  the  world 
should  be  finished  in  the  next  month,  the  farms  were  of 
no  consequence.  And  if  Millerism  proved  a  delusion,  the  loss 
of  Samuel  Anderson's  property  would  only  leave  Julia  on  his 
level,  so  far  as  worldly  goods  went.  The  happiness  this  last 
thought  brought  him  made  him  ashamed.  Why  should  he 
rejoice  in    Mr.  Anderson's  misfortune?     Why  should  he  wish 


SCARING    A    HAWK.  239 

to  pull  Julia  down  to  him?  But  still  the  thought  re- 
mained a  pleasant  one. 

Jonas  would  not  have  it  so.  He  had  his  plan.  He  went 
home  from  the  Adventist  meeting  that  very  night  with  Cynthy 
Ann,  and  then  stood  talking  to  her  at  the  corner  of  the 
porch,  feeling  very  sure  that  Humphreys  would  listen  from 
above.  He  heard  his  stealthy  tread,  after  a  while,  disturb  a 
loose  board  on  the  upper  porch.  Then  he  began  to  talk  to 
Cynthy  Ann  in  this  strain : 

"You  see,  I  can't  tell  no  secrets,  Cynthy  Ann,  even  to 
your  Royal  Goodness,  as  I  might  say,  seein'  as  how  as  you 
a'n't  my  wife,  and  a'n't  likely  to  be,  if  Brother  Goshorn  can 
have  his  way.  But  you're  the  Queen  of  Hearts,  anyhow. 
But  s'pose  I  was  to  hint  a  secret?" 

"  Sh — sh — h-h-h  ! "  said  Cynthy  Ann,  partly  because  she  felt 
a  sinful  pleasure  in  the  flattery,  and  partly  because  she  felt 
sure  that  Humphreys  was  above.  But  Jonas  paid  no  attention 
to  the  caution. 

"  I'll  gin  you  a  hint  as  strong  as  a  Irishman's,  which  they 
do  say'll  knock  you  down.  Let's  s'pose  a  case.  They  a'n't 
no  harm  in  s'posin'  a  case,  you  know.  I've  knowed  boys 
who'd  throw  a  rock  at  a  fence-rail  and  hit  a  stump,  and  then 
say,  '  S'posin'  they  was  a  woodpecker  on  that  air  stump, 
wouldn't  I  a  keeled  him  over?'  You  can  s'pose  a  case  and 
make  a  woodpecker  wherever  you  want  to.  Well,  s'posin' 
they  was  a  inquisition  or  somethin'  of  the  kind  from  the 
guv'nor  of  the  State  of  ole  Kaintuck  to  the  guv'nor  of  the 
State  of  Injeanny?  And  s'posin'  that  the  dokyment  got  lodged 
in  this  'ere  identical  county  ?  And  s'posin'  it  called  fer  the 
body   of    one    Thomas    A.    Parkins,   alius    J.   W.  'Umphreys? 


240  THE   END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

And  s'posin'  it  speecified  as  to  sartain  and  sundry  crimes  com- 
mitted in  Paduky  and  all  along  the  shore,  fer  all  I  know? 
Now,  s'posin'  all  of  them  air  things,  what  would  Clark  town- 
ship do  to  console  itself  when  that  toonful  v'ice  and  them  air 
blazin'  watch-seals  had  set  in  ignominy  for  ever  and  ever? 
Selah !  Good-night,  and  don't  you  breathe  a  word  to  a  livin' 
soul,  nur  a  dead  one,  'bout  what  I  been  a-sayin'.  You'll  know 
more  by  daylight  to-morry  'n  you  know  now." 

And  the  last  part  of  the  speech  was  true,  for  by  midnight 
the  Hawk  had  fled.  And  the  sale  of  the  Anderson  farm  to 
Humphreys  was  never  completed.  For  three  days  the  end  of 
the  world  was  forgotten  in  the  interest  which  Clark  township 
felt  in  the  flight  of  its  favorite.  And  by  degrees  the  story 
of  Norman's  encounter  with  the  gamblers  and  of  August's  re- 
covery of  the  money  became  spread  abroad  through  the  con- 
fidential hints  of  Jonas.  And  by  degrees  another  story  became 
known;  it  could  not  long  be  concealed.  It  was  the  story  of 
Betsey  Malcolm,  who  averred  that  she  had  been  privately 
married  to  Humphreys  on  the  occasion  of  a  certain  trip  they 
had  made  to  Kentucky  together,  to  attend  a  "  big  meeting." 
The  story  was  probably  true,  but  uncharitable  gossips  shook 
their  heads. 

It  was  only  a  few  evenings  after  the  flight  of  Humphreys 
that  Jonas  had  another  talk  with  Cynthy  Ann,  in  which  he 
confessed  that  all  his  supposed  case  about  a  requisition  from 
the  governor  of  Kentucky  for  Humphreys's  arrest  was  pure 
fiction. 

"  But,  Jonas,  is — is  that  air  right  ?  I'm  afeard  it  a'n't  right 
to  tell  an  ontruth." 

"  So  'ta'n't ;   but  I  only  s'posed  a  case,  you  know." 


SCARING    A    HAWK.  241 

"But  Brother  Hall  said  last  Sunday  two  weeks,  that  any- 
thing that  gin  a  false  impression  was — was  lying.  Now,  I 
don't  think  you  meant  it,  hut  then  I  thought  I  orto  speak  to 
you  about  it." 

"  Well,  maybe  you're  right.  I  see  you  last  summer  a-puttin' 
up  a  skeercrow  to  keep  the  poor,  hungry  little  birds  of  the 
air  from  gittin'  the  peas  that  they  needed  to  sustain  life.  An' 
I  said,  What  a  pity  that  the  best  woman  I  ever  seed  should 
tell  lies  to  the  poor  little  birds  that  can't  defend  theirselves 
from  her  wicked  wiles !  But  I  see  that  same  day  a  skeer- 
crow, a  mean,  holler,  high-percritical  purtense  of  a  ole  hat 
and  coat,  a-hanging  in  Brother  Goshorn's  garden  down  to  the 
cross-roads.  An'  I  wondered  ef  it  was  your  Methodis'  trainin' 
that  taught  you  sech-like  cheatin'  of  the  little  sparrys  and 
blackbirds." 

"Yes;  but  Jonas "  said  Cynthy,  bewildered. 

"And  I  see  a  few  days  arterwards  a  Englishman  with  a 
humbug-fly  onto  his  line,  a  foolin'  the  poor,  simple-hearted 
little  fishes  into  swallerin'  a  hook  that  hadn't  nary  sign  of  a 
ginowine  bait  onto  it.  An'  I  says,  says  I,  What  a  deceitful 
thing  the  human  heart  is ! " 

"  Why,  Jonas,  you'd  make  a  preacher ! "  said  Cynthy  Ann, 
touched  with  the  fervor  of  his  utterance,  and  inly  resolved 
never  to  set  up  another  scarecrow. 

"  Not  much,  my  dear.  But  then,  you  see,  I  make  distinc- 
tions. Ef  I  was  to  see  a  wolf  a-goin'  to  eat  a  lamb,  what 
would  I  do  ?  Why,  I'd  skeer  or  fool  him  with  the  very  fust 
thing  I  could  find.     Wouldn'  you,  honey  f  " 

"In  course,"  said  Cynthy  Ann. 

"  And  so,  when  I  seed  a  wolf  or  a  tiger  or  a  painter,  like 


242  THE    END    OP    THE    WORLD- 

that  air  'Umphreys,  about  to  gobble  up  fortins,  and  to  do  some 
harm  to  Gus,  maybe,  I  jest  rigged  up  a  skeercrow  of  words, 
like  a  ole  hat  and  coat  stuck  onto  a  stick,  and  run  him  off. 
Any  harm  done,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,  Jonas  ;  I  rather  'low  not." 

Whether  Jonas's  defense  was  good  or  not,  I  can  not  say,  for 
I  do  not  know.     But  he  is  entitled  to  the  benefit  of  it. 


JONAS   TAKES  AN    APPEAL. 


243 


CHAPTER     XXXIX. 


JONAS     TAKES    AN    APPEAL 


ON  AS  had  waited  for  the  coming  of  the 
quarterly  meeting  to  carry  his  appeal  to  the 
presiding  elder.  The  quarterly  meeting  for  the  cir- 
cuit was  held  at  the  village  of  Brayville,  and  beds 
were  made  upon  the  floor  for  the  guests  who  crowded 
the  town.  Every  visiting  Methodist  had  a  right  to  entertain- 
ment, and  every  resident  Methodist  opened  his  doors  very  wide, 
for  Western  people  are  hospitable  in  a  fashion  and  with  a  boun- 
tifulness  unknown  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  mountains.  Who 
that  has  not  known  it,  can  ever  understand  the  delightfulness  of 
a  quarterly  meeting?  The  meeting  of  old  friends — the  social 
life — is  all  but  heavenly.  And  then  the  singing  of  the  old  Meth- 
odist hymns,  such  as 

"Oh  !  that  will  be  joyful  1 
Joyful !  joyful ! 
Oh  1  that  will  be  joyful, 
To  meet  to  part  no  more." 

And  that  other  solemnly-sweet  refrain: 

"The  reaping-time  will  surely  come, 
And  angels  shout  the  harvest  home  1 " 


244  THE    END    OF   THE    WOKLD. 

And  who  shall  describe  the  joy  of  a  Christian  mother,  when  her 
scapegrace  son  "  laid  down  the  arms  of  his  rebellion  "  and  was 
"  soundly  converted  "  ?  Let  those  sneer  who  will,  but  such  moral 
miracles  as  are  wrought  in  Methodist  revivals  are  more  won- 
derful than  any  healing  of  the  blind  or  raising  of  the  dead 
could  be. 

Jonas  turned  up,  faithful  to  his  promise,  and  called  on  the 
"elder"  at  the  place  where  he  was  staying,  and  asked  for  a  pri- 
vate interview.  He  found  the  old  gentleman  exercising  his 
sweet  voice  in  singing, 

"Come,  let  us  anew 
Our  journey  pursue, 
Roll  round  with  the  year. 
And  never  stand  still  till  the  Master  appear. 
His  adorable  will 
Let  us  gladly  fulfill, 
And  our  talents  improve 
By  the  patience  of  hope  and  the  labor  of  love." 

When  he  concluded  the  verse  he  raised  his  half-closed  eyes 
and  saw  Jonas '  standing  in  the  door. 

"Mr.  Persidin'  Elder,"  said  Jonas,  trying  in  vain  to  speak 
with  some  seriousness  and  veneration,  "  I  come  to  ax  your 
consent  to  marry  one  of  your  flock — the  best  lamb  you've 
got  in  the  whole  fold." 

"Bless  you,  Mr.  Harrison,"  said  Father  Williams,  the  old 
elder,  laughing,  "bless  you,  I  haven't  any  right  to  consent  or 
forbid.     Ask  the  lady  herself  !  " 

"  Ax  the  lady ! "  said  Jonas.  "  Didn't  I  though  !  And  didn't 
Mr.  Goshorn  forbid  the  lady  to  marry  me,  under  the  pains  and 
penalties  pervided ;  and  didn't  Mr.  Hall  set  his  seal  to  the  for- 
biddin'  of  Goshorn !    An'  I  says  to  her,  '  I  won't  take  nothin'  less 


JONAS  TAKES  AN  APPEAL.  245 

than  a  elder  or  a  bishop  on  this  'ere  vital  question.'  When  I 
want  a  sheep,  I  don't  go  to  the  underlin,'  but  to  the  boss ;  and 
so  I  brought  this  appeal  up  to  you  on  a  writ  of  Jiabeas  corpus,  or 
whatever  you  may  call  it." 

The  presiding  elder  laughed  *  again,  and  looked  closely  at 
Jonas.  Then  he  stepped  to  the  door  and  called  in  the  circuit 
preacher,  Mr.  Hall,  and  the  class  leader,  Mr.  Goshorn,  both  of 
whom  happened  to  be  in  the  next  room  engaged  in  an  excited 
discussion  with  a  brother  who  was  a  little  touched  with  Mil- 
ler ism. 

"  What's  this  Mr.  Harrison  tells  me  about  your  forbidding  the 
banns  in  his  case?" 

"  He's  a  New  Light,"  said  Brother  Hall,  showing  his  abhor- 
rence in  his  face,  "  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  for  a  Methodist  to 
marry  a  New  Light  was  a  sin — a  being  yoked  together  unequally 
with  an  unbeliever.  You  know,  Father  Williams,  that  New 
Lights  are  Arians." 

The  old  man  seemed  more  amused  than  ever.  Turning  to 
Jonas,  he  asked  him  if  he  was  an  Aria'n. 

"Not  as  I  knows  on,  my  venerable  friend.  I  may  have 
caught  the  disease  when  I  had  the  measles,  or  I  may  have  been  a 
Arian  in  infancy,  or  I  may  be  a  Arian  on  my  mother's  side, 
you  know  ;  but  as  I  don't  know  who  or  what  it  may  be,  I  a'n't  in 
no  way  accountable  fer  it — no  more'n  Brother  Goshorn  is  to  blame 
fer  his  face  bein'  so  humbly.  But  I  take  it  Arian  is  one  of  them 
air  pleasant  names  you  and  the  New  Light  preachers  uses  in 
your  Chri°tian  intercourse  together  to  make  one  another  mad. 
I'm  one  of  them  as  goes  to  heaven  straight — never  stoppin'  to 
throw  no  donicks  at  the  Methodists,  Presbyterians,  nor  no  other 
misguided  children  of  men.     They  may  ride  in  the  packet,  or  go 


246  THE   END    OE   THE   WORLD. 

by  flat-boat  or  keel-boat,  ef  they  chooses.  I  go  by  the  swift- 
sailin'  and  palatial  mail-boat  New  Light,  and  I  don't  run  no 
opposition  line,  nor  bust  my  bilers  try  in'  to  beat  my  neighbors 
into  the  heavenly  port." 

Brother  Goshorn  looked  vexed.  Brother  Hall  was  scan- 
dalized at  the  lightness  of  Jonas's  conversation.  But  the  old 
presiding  elder,  with   keen   common-sense  and  an  equally  keen 


BROTHER     GOSHORN. 


sense  of  the  ludicrous,  could  not  look  grave  with  all  his  effort 
to  keep  from  laughing. 

"Are  you  an  unbeliever?"  he  asked. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  call  onbeliever.  I  believe  in  God 
and  Christ,  and  keep  Sunday  and  the  Fourth  of  July ;  but  I  don't 
believe  in  all  of  Brother  Goshorn's  nonsense  about  wearing  veils 
and  artificials." 

"  Well,"  said  Brother  Hall,  "  would  you  endeavor  to  induce 
your  wife  to  dress  in  a  manner  unbecoming  a  Methodist  ?  " 


JONAS   TAKES   AN   APPEAL.  249 

"  I  wouldn't  fer  the  world.  If  I  git  the  article  I  want,  I  don't 
keer  what  it's  tied  up  iu,  calico  or  bombazine." 

"  Couldn't  you  join  the  Methodist  Church  yourself,  and  keep 
your  wife  company  ?  "     It  was  Brotber  Goshorn  who  spoke. 

"  Couldn't  I  ?  I  suppose  I  could  ef  I  didn't  think  no  more 
of  religion  than  some  other  folks.  I  could  jine  the  Methodist 
Church,  and  have  everybody  say  I  jined  to  git  my  wife.  That 
maybe  serving  God;  but  I  can't  see  how.  And  then  how  long 
would  you  keep  me  ?  The  very  fust  time  I  fired  off  my  blunder- 
buss in  class-meetin',  and  you  heerd  the  buckshot  and  the 
squirrel-shot  and  the  slugs  and  all  sorts  of  things  a-rattlin' 
around,  you'd  say  I  was  makin'  fun  of  the  Gospel.  I  'low  they 
a'n't  no  Methodist  in  me.  I  was  cut  out  cur'us,  you  know,  and 
made  up  crooked." 

"  Is  there  anything  against  Mr.  Harrison,  Brother  Goshorn  ?  " 
asked  the  elder. 

"  He's  a  New  Light,"  said  Mr.  Goshorn,  in  a  tone  that  signi- 
fied his  belief  that  to  be  a  New  Light  was  enough. 

"Is  he  honest  and  steady?" 

"Never  heard  anything  against  him  as  a  moralist." 

"  "Well,  then,  it's  my  opinion  that  any  member  of  your  class 
would  do  better  to  marry  a  good,  faithful,  honest  New  Light 
than  to  marry  a  hickory  Methodist." 

Jonas  got  up  like  one  demented,  and  ran  out  of  the  door  and 
across  the  street.  In  a  moment  he  came  back,  bringing  Cyntby 
Ann  in  triumph. 

"  Now,  say  them  words  over  again,"  he  said  to  the  presiding 
elder. 

"  Sister  Cynthy  Ann,"  said  the  presiding  elder,  "you  really 
love  Brother  Harrison  ? " 


250  THE    END    OP    THE    WORLD. 

"  I — I  don't  know  whether  it's  right  to  set  our  sinful  hearts  on 
the  things  of  this  perishin'  world.  But  I  think  more  of  him, 
I'm  afeard,  than  I  had  ort  to.  He's  got  as  good  a  heart  as  I  ever 
seed.  But  Brother  Goshorn  thought  I  hadn't  orter  marry  him, 
seein'  he  is  a  onbeliever." 

"  But  I  a'n't,"  said  Jonas ;  "  I  believe  in  the  Bible,  and  in  every- 
thing in  it,  and  in  Cynthy  Ann  and  her  good  Methodist  religion 
besides." 

"I  think  you  can  give  up  all  your  scruples  and  marry  Mr. 
Harrison,  and  love  him  and  be  happy,"  said  the  presiding  elder. 
"Don't  be  afraid  to  be  happy,  my  sister.  You'll  be  happy  in 
good  company  in  heaven,  and  you'd  just  as  well  get  used  to  it 
here." 

"I  told  you  I'd  find  a  man  that  had  salt  enough  to  keep 
his  religion  sweet.  And,  Father  Williams,  you've  got  to  marry 
us,  whenever  Cynthy  Ann's  ready,"  said  Jonas  with  enthusiasm. 

And  for  a  moment  the  look  of  overstrained  scrupulosity  on 
Cynthy  Ann's  face  relaxed  and  a  strange  look  of  happiness  came 
into  her  eyes.  v 

And  the  time  was  fixed  then  and  there. 

Brother  Hall  was  astonished. 

And  Brother  Goshorn  drew  down  his  face,  and  said  that  he 
didn't  know  what  was  to  become  of  good,  old-fashioned  Method- 
ism and  the  rules  of  the  Discipline,  if  the  presiding  elders  talked 
in  that  sort  of  a  way.    The  church  was  going  to  the  dogs. 


SELLING    OUT.  251 


CHAPTER     XL. 

SELLING    OUT. 

HE  flight  of  the  Hawk  did  not  long  dampen  the 
ardor  of  those  who  were  looking  for  signs  in  the 
heaven  above  and  the  earth  beneath.  I  ljave  known 
a  school-master  to  stand,  switch  in  hand,  and  give  a 
stubborn  boy  a  definite  number  of  minutes  to  yield. 
The  boy  who  would  not  have  submitted  on  account  of  any 
amount  of  punishment,  was  subdued  by  the  awful  waiting.  "We 
have  all  read  the  old  school-book  story  of  the  prison-warden  who 
brought  a  mob  of  criminals  to  subjection  by  the  same  process. 
Millerism  produced  some  such  effect  as  this.  The  assured  belief 
of  the  believers  had  a  great  effect  on  others ;  the  dreadful  draw- 
ing on  of  the  set  time  day  by  day  produced  an  effect  in  some 
regions  absolutely  awful.  An  eminent  divine,  at  that  time  a  pas- 
tor in  Boston,  has  told  me  that  the  leaven  of  Adventism  per- 
meated all  religious  bodies,  and  that  he  himself  could  not  avoid 
the  fearful  sense  of  waiting  for  some  catastrophe — the  impres- 
sion that  all  this  expectation  of  people  must  have  some  signifi- 
cance. If  this  was  the  effect  in  Boston,  imagine  the  effect 
in  a  country  neighborhood  like  Clark  township.    Andrew,  skep- 


g52  THE    END    OF   THE    WOELD. 

tical  as  tie  was  visionary,  was  almost  the  only  man  that  escaped 
the  infection.  Jonas  would  have  been  as  frankly  irreverent  if 
the  day  of  doom  had  come  as  he  was  at  all  times;  but  even 
Jonas  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  "  somethin'  would  hap- 
pen, or  else  somethin'  else."  August,  with  a  young  man's 
impressibility,  was  awe-stricken  with  thoughts  of  the  nearing 
end  of  the  world,  and  Julia  accepted  it  as  settled. 

It  is  a  good  thing  that  the  invisible  world  is  so  thoroughly 
shut  out  from  this.  The  effect  of  too  vivid  a  conception  of  it 
is  never  wholesome.  It  was  pernicious  in  the  middle  age,  and 
clairvoyance  and  spirit-rapping  would  be  great  evils  to  the  world, 
if  it  were  not  that  the  spirits,  even  of  the  ablest  men,  in  losing 
their  bodies  seem  to  lose  their  wits.  It  is  well  that  it  is  so,  for 
if  Washington  Irving  dictated  to  a  medium  accounts  of  the  other 
world  in  a  style  such  as  that  of  his  "  Little  Britain,"  for  instance, 
we  should  lose  all  interest  in  the  affairs  of  this  sphere,  and  nobody 
would  buy  our  novels. 

This  fever  of  excitement  kept  alive  Samuel  Anderson's  deter- 
mination to  sell  his  farms  for  a  trifle  as  a  testimony  to  unbe- 
lievers. He  found  that  fifty  dollars  would  meet  his  expenses 
until  the  eleventh  of  August,  and  so  the  price  was  set  at  that. 

As  soon  as  Andrew  heard  of  this,  he  privately  arranged  with 
Jonas  to  buy  it;  but  Mrs.  Anderson  utterly  refused.  She  said 
she  could  see  through  it  all.  Jonas  was  one  of  Andrew's  fingers. 
Andrew  had  got  to  be  a  sort  of  a  king  in  Clark  township,  and 
Jonas  was — was  the  king's  fool.  She  did  not  mean  that  any  of 
her  property  should  go  into  the  hands  of  the  clique  that  were  try- 
ing to  rob  her  of  her  property  and  her  daughter.  Even  for  two 
weeks  they  should  not  own  her  house  ! 

Before  this  speech  was  ended,  Bob  Walker  entered  the  door. 


SELLING    OUT. 


253 


Bob  was  tall,  stooped,  good-natured,  and  desperately  poor.  With 
ten  children  under  twelve  years  of  age,  with  an  incorrigible  fond- 
ness for  loafing  and  telling  funny  stories,  Bob  saw  no  chance  to 
improve  his  condition.     A  man  may  be  either  honest  or  lazy  and 


"I  WANT    TO  BUT   TOUR  PLACE." 

get  rich  ;  but  a  man  who  is  both  honest  and  indolent  is  doomed. 
Bob  lived  in  a  cabin  on  the  Anderson  farm,  and  when  not 
hired  by  Samuel  Anderson  he  did  days'  work  here  and  there, 
riding  to  and  from  his  labor  on  a  raw-boned  mare,  that  was  the 
laughing-stock  of  the  county.    Bob  pathetically  called  her  Splin- 


254  THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

ter-shin,  and  he  always  rode  bareback,  for  the  very  good  reason 
that  he  had  neither  saddle  nor  sheepskin. 

"  Mr.  Anderson,"  said  Bob,  standing  in  the  door  and  trying  to 
straighten  the  chronic  stoop  out  of  his  shoulders,  "I  want  to 
buy  your  place." 

If  Bob  had  said  that  he  wanted  to  be  elected  president, 
Samuel  Anderson  could  not  have  been  more  surprised. 

"  You  look  astonished ;  but  folks  don't  know  everything.  I 
'low  I  know  how  to  lay  by  a  little.  But  I  never  could  git  enough 
to  buy  a  decent  kind  of  a  tater-patch.  So  I  says  to  my  ole 
woman  this  mornin',  '  Jane,'  says  I,  '  let's  git  some  ground.  Let's 
buy  out  Mr.  Anderson,  and  see  how  it'll  feel  to  be  rich  fer  a  few 
days.  •If  she  all  burns  up,  let  her  burn,  I  say.  We've  had  a  pla- 
guey  hard  time  of  it,  let's  see  how  it  goes  to  own  two  farms  fer 
awhile.'  And  so  we  thought  we'd  ruther  hev  the  farms  fer  two 
weeks  than  a  little  money  in  a  ole   stocking.     What  d'ye  say  ?  " 

Jonas  here  put  in  that  he  didn't  see  why  they  mightn't  sell 
to  him  as  well  as  to  Bob  Walker.  Cynthy  Ann  had  worked  fer 
Mrs.  Anderson  fer  years,  and  him  and  Cynthy  was  a-goin'  to 
be  one  man  soon.    Why  not  sell  to  them  ? 

"Because  selling  to  you  is  selling  to  Andrew,"  said  Mrs. 
Abigail,  in  a  conclusive  way. 

And  so  Bob  got  the  farms,  possession  to  be  given  after  the 
fourteenth  of  August,  thus  giving  the  day  of  doom  three  days 
of  grace.  And  Bob  rode  round  the  county  boasting  that  he  was 
as  rich  a  man  as  there  was  in  Clark  Township.  And  Jonas  de- 
clared that  ef  the  eend  did  come  in  the  month  of  August, 
Abigail  would  find  some  onsettled  bills  agin  her  fer  cheatin' 
the  brother  outen  the  inheritance.  And  Clark  Township  agreed 
with  him. 


SELLING    OCT.  ^.).> 

August  was  secretly  pleased  that  one  obstacle  to  his  mar- 
riage was  gone.  If  Andrew  should  prove  right,  and  the  world 
should  outlast  the  middle  of  August,  there  would  be  nothing 
dishonorable  in  his  marrying  a  girl  that  would  have  nothing  to 
sacrifice. 

Andrew,  for  his  part,  gave  vent  to  his  feelings,  as  usual,  by 
two  or  three  bitter  remarks  leveled  at  the  whole  human  race, 
though  nowadays  he  was  inclined  to  make  exceptions  in  favor 
of  several  people,  of  whom  Julia  stood  first.  She  was  a 
woman  of  the  old-fashioned  kind,  he  said,  fit  to  go  alongside 
Heloise  or  Chaucer's  Grisilde. 


256  THE   END    OF   THE   WORLD. 


CHAPTER    XLI. 

THE    LAST   DAT    AND    WHAT    HAPPENED    IN    IT. 

'HE  religious  excitement  reached  its  culmination 
fifr  as  the  tenth  and  eleventh  of  August  came  on. 
Some  made  ascension-robes.  "Work  was  suspended 
everywhere.  The  more  abandoned,  unwilling  to 
yield  to  the  panic,  showed  its  effects  on  them  by 
deeper  potations,  and  by  a  recklessness  of  wickedness  meant 
to  conceal  their  fears.  With  tin  horns  they  blasphemously 
affected  to  be  angels  blowing  trumpets.  They  imitated  the 
Millerite  meetings  in  their  drunken  sprees,  and  learned  Mr. 
Hankins's  arguments  by  heart. 

The  sun  of  the  eleventh  of  August  rose  gloriously.  People 
pointed  to  it  with  trembling,  and  said  that  it  would  rise  no 
more.  Soon  after  sunrise  there  were  crimson  clouds  stretching 
above  and  below  it,  and  popular  terror  seized  upon  this  as  a 
sign.  But  the  sun  mounted  with  a  scorching  heat,  which- 
showed  that  at  least  his  shining  power  was  not  impaired.  Then 
men  said,  "  Behold  the  beginning  of  the  fervent  heat  that  is  to 
melt  the  elements  ! "  Night  drew  on,  and  every  "  shooting-star" 
was  a  new  sign  of  the  end.    The  meteors,  as  usual  at  this  time 


THE   LAST   DAY   AND   WHAT    HAPPENED    IN    IT.         257 

of  the  year,  were  plentiful,  and  the  simple-hearted  country- 
folk were  convinced  that  the  stars  were  falling  out  of  the  sky. 
A  large  bald  hill  overlooking  the  Ohio  was  to  be  the  mount 
of  ascension.  Here  gathered  Elder  Hankins's  flock  with  that 
comfortable  assurance  of  being  the  elect  that  only  a  narrow 
bigotry  can  give.  And  here  came  others  of  all  denominations, 
consoling  themselves  that  they  were  just  as  well  off  if  they  were 
Christians  as  if  they  had  made  all  this  fuss  about  the  millennium. 
Here  was  August,  too,  now  almost  well,  joining  with  the  rest  in 
singing  those  sweet  and  inspiring  Adventist  hymns.  His  German 
heart  could  not  keep  still  where  there  was  singing,  and  now,  in 
gratefulness  at  new-found  health,  he  was  more  inclined  to  music 
than  ever.  So  he  joined  heartily  and  sincerely  in  the  song  that 
begins : 

"  Shall  Simon  bear  his  cross  alone, 
And  all  the  world  go  free? 
No,  there's  a  cross  for  every  one, 

And  there's   a  cross  for  me. 
I'll  bear  the  consecrated  cros3 
Till  from  the  cross  I'm  free, 
And  then  go  home   to  wear  the  crown, 

For  there's  a  crown  for  me! 
Yes,  there's  a  crown  in  heaven  above, 
The  purchase  of  a  Saviour's  love. 
Oh  !   that's  the  crown  for  me  !  " 

When  the  concourse  reached  the  lines, 

"The  saints  have  heard  the  midnight  cry. 
Go  meet  him  in  the  air ! " 

neither  August  nor  any  one  else  could  well  resist  the  infection 
of  the  profound  and  awful  belief  in  the  immediate  coming  of  the 
end  which  pervaded  the  throng.  Strong  men  and  women  wept 
and  shouted  with  the  excitement. 


258  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Then  Elder  Hankins  exhorted  a  little.  He  said  that  the  time 
was  short.  But  men's  hearts  were  hard.  As  in  the  days  of  the 
flood,  they  were  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage.  Not  half  a 
mile  away  a  wedding  was  at  that  time  taking  place,  and  a  man 
who  called  himself  a  minister  could  not  discern  the  signs  of  the 
times,  but  was  solemnizing  a  marriage. 

This  allusion  was  to  the  marriage  of  Jonas,  which  was  to  take 
place  that  very  evening  at  the  castle.  Mrs.  Anderson  had  refused 
to  have  "  such  wicked  nonsense "  at  her  house,  and  as  Cynthy 
had  no  home,  Andrew  had  appointed  it  at  the  castle,  partly  to 
oblige  Jonas,  partly  from  habitual  opposition  to  Abigail,  but 
chiefly  to  express  his  contempt  for  Adventism. 

Mrs.  Anderson  herself  was  in  a  state  of  complete  sublima- 
tion. She  had  sent  for  Norman,  that  she  might  get  him  ready  for 
the  final  judgment,  and  Norman,  without  the  slightest  inclination 
to  be  genuinely  religious,  was  yet  a  coward,  and  made  a  provi- 
sional repentance,  not  meant  to  hold  good  if  Elder  Hankins's 
figures  should  fail ;  just  such  a  repentance  as  many  a  man  has 
made  on  what  he  supposed  to  be  his  death-bed.  Do  not  I 
remember  a  panic-stricken  man,  converted  by  typhoid  fever  and 
myself,  who  laughed  as  soon  as  he  began  to  eat  gruel,  to  think 
that  he  had  been  "  such  a  fool  as  to  send  for  the  preacher  "  ? 

Now,  between  Mrs.  Anderson's  joy  at  Norman's  conversion, 
and  her  delight  that  the  world  would  soon  be  at  an  end  and 
she  on  the  winning  side,  and  her  anticipation  of  the  pleasure 
she  would  feel  even  in  heaven  in  saying,  "  I  told  you  so  !  "  to 
her  unbelieving  friends,  she  quite  forgot  Julia.  In  fact  she 
went  from  one  fit  of  religious  catalepsy  to  another,  falling  into 
trances,  or  being  struck  down  with  what  was  mysteriously 
called  "  the  power."     She  had  relaxed  her  vigilance  about  Julia, 


THE    LAST    DAY  AND   WHAT    HAPPENED    IN    IT.  259 

for  there  were  but  three  more  hours  of  time,  and  she  felt  that 
the  goal  was  already  gained,  and  she  had  carried  her  point  to 
the  very  last.    A  satisfaction  for  a  saint ! 

The  neglected  Julia  naturally  floated  toward  the  outer  edge 
of  the  surging  crowd,  and  she  and  August  inevitably  drifted 
together. 

"Let  us  go  and  see  Jonas  married,"  said  August.  "It  is  no 
harm.  God  can  take  us  to  heaven  from  one  place  as  well  as 
another,  if  we  are  His  children." 

In  truth,  Julia  was  wearied  and  bewildered,  not  to  say  dis- 
gusted, with  her  mother's  peculiar  religious  exercises,  and  she 
gladly  escaped  with  August  to  the  castle  and  the  wedding  of 
her  faithful  friends. 

Andrew,  in  a  spirit  of  skeptical  defiance,  had  made  his  castle 
look  as  flowery  and  festive  as  possible.  The  wedding  took  place 
in  the  lower  story,  but  the  library  was  illuminated,  and  the 
Adventists  who  had  occasion  to  pass  by  Andrew's  on  their  way  to 
the  rendezvous  accepted  this  as  a  new  fulfillment  of  prophecy  to 
the  very  letter.  They  nodded  one  to  another,  and  said,  "  Seel 
marrying  and  giving  in  marriage,  as  in  the  days  of  Noah  ! " 

August  and  Julia  were  too  much  awe-stricken  to  say  much 
on  their  way  to  the  castle.  But  in  these  last  hours  of  a  world 
grown  old  and  ready  for  its  doom,  they  cleaved  closer  together. 
There  could  be  neither  heaven  nor  millennium  for  one  of  them 
without  the  other !  Loving  one  another  made  them  love  God 
the  more,  and  love  cast  out  all  fear.  If  this  was  the  Last,  they 
would  face  it  together,  and  if  it  proved  the  Beginning,  they 
would  rejoice  together.  At  sight  of  every  shooting  meteor, 
Julia  clung  almost  convulsively  to  August. 

When  they  entered  the  castle,  Jonas  and  Cynthy  were,  already 


260  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

standing  up  before  the  presiding  elder,  and  he  was  about  to  begin. 
Cynthy's  face  showed  her  sense  of  the  awfulness  of  marrying  at  a 
moment  of  such  fearful  expectation,  or  perhaps  she  was  troub- 
ling herself  for  fear  that  so  much  happiness  out  of  heaven  was 
to  be  had  only  in  the  commission  of  a  capital  sin.  But,  like 
most  people  whose  consciences  are  stronger  than  their  intellects, 
she  found  great  consolation  in  taking  refuge  under  the  wing  of 
ecclesiastical  authority.  To  be  married  by  a  presiding  elder 
was  the  best  thing  in  the  world  next  to  being  married  by  a 
bishop. 

Whatever  fear  of  the  swift-coming  judgment  others  might 
have  felt,  the  benignant  old  elder  was  at  peace.  Common- 
sense,  a  clean  conscience,  and  a  child-like  faith  enlightened  his 
countenance,  and  since  he  tried  to  be  always  ready,  and  since 
his  meditations  made  the  things  of  the  other  life  ever  present, 
his  pulse  would  scarcely  have  quickened  if  he  had  felt  sure  that 
the  archangel's  trump  would  sound  in  an  hour.  He  neither  felt 
the  subdued  fear  shown  on  the  countenance  of  Cynthy  Ann,  nor 
the  strong  skeptical  opposition  of  Andrew,  whose  face  of  late  had 
grown  almost  into  a  sneer. 

"Do  you  take  this  woman  to  be  your  lawful  and  wedded 
wife " 

And  before  the  elder  could  finish  it,  Jonas  blurted  out,  "  You'd 
better  believe  I  do,  my  friend." 

And  then  when  the  old  man  smiled  and  finished  his  ques- 
tion down  to,  "  so  long  as  ye  both  shall  live,"  Jonas  responded 
eagerly,  "  Tell  death  er  the  jedgment-day,  long  or  short" 

And  Cynthy  Ann  answered  demurely  out  of  her  frightened 
but  too  happy  heart,  and  the  old  man  gave  them  his  benediction 
in  an  apostolic  fashion  that  removed  Cynthy  Ann's  scruples,  and 


THE   LAST    DAY   AND   WHAT    HAPPENED    IN   IT.  261 

smoothed  a  little  of  the  primness  out  of  her  face,  so  that  she 
almost  smiled  -when  Jonas  said,  "  Well  !  it's  done  now,  and 
it  can't  be  undone  fer  all  the  Goshorns  in  Christendom  er 
creation ! " 

And  then  the  old  gentleman — for  he  was  a  gentleman,  though 
he  had  always  been  a  backwoodsman — spoke  of  the  excite- 
ment, and  said  that  it  was  best  always  to  be  ready — to  be  ready 
to  live,  and  then  you  would  be  ready  for  death  or  the  judgment. 
That  very  night  the  end  might  come,  but  it  was  not  best  to 
trouble  one's  self  about  it.  And  he  smiled,  and  said  that  it  was 
none  of  his  business,  God  could  manage  the  universe ;  it  was  for 
him  to  be  found  doing  his  duty  as  a  faithful  servant.  And  then  it 
would  be  just  like  stepping  out  of  one  door  into  another, 
whenever  death  or  the  judgment  should  come. 

While  the  old  man  was  getting  ready  to  leave,  Julia  and  Au- 
gust slipped  away,  fearing  lest  their  absence  should  be  discov- 
ered. But  the  peacefulness  of  the  old  elder's  face  had  entered 
into  their  souls,  and  they  wished  that  they  too  were  solemnly 
pronounced  man  and  wife,  with  so  sweet  a  benediction  upon 
their  union. 

"  I  do  not  feel  much  anxious  about  the  day  of  judgment 
or  the  millennium,"  said  August,  whose  idiom  was  sometimes 
a  little  broken.  "When  I  was  so  near  dying  I  felt  satisfied 
to  die  after  you  had  kissed  my  lips.  But  now  that  it  seems  we 
have  come  upon  the  world's  last  days,  I  wish  I  were  married  to 
you.  I  do  not  know  how  things  will  be  in  the  new  heaven  and 
the  new  earth.  But  I  should  like  you  to  be  my  wife  there, 
or  at  least  to  have  been  my  wife  on  earth,  if  only  for  one  hour.'r 

And  then  he  proposed  that  they  should  be  made  man  and  wife 
now  in  the  world's  last  hour.     It  was  not  wrong.    It  could  not 


262  THE   END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

give  her  mother  heart-disease,  for  she  would  not  know  of  it  till 
she  should  hear  it  in  the  land  where  there  are  neither  marriages 
nor  sickness.  Julia  could  not  see  any  sin  in  her  disobedience 
under  such  circumstances.  She  did  so  much  want  to  go  into  the 
New  Jerusalem  as  the  wedded  wife  of  August  "  the  grand," 
as  she  fondly  called  him. 

And  so  in  the  stillness  of  that  awful  night  they  walked  back 
to  Andrew's  castle,  and  found  the  venerable  preacher,  with  sad- 
dle-bags on  his  arm,  ready  to  mount  his  horse,  for  the  presiding 
elder  of  that  day  had  no  leisure  time.  Jonas  and  Cynthy  stood 
bidding  him  good-by.  And  the  old  man  was  saying  again  that  if 
we  were  always  ready  it  would  be  like  stepping  from  one  door 
into  another.  But  he  thought  it  as  wrong  to  waste  time  gazing 
up  into  heaven  to  see  Christ  come,  as  it  had  been  to  gaze  after 
Him  when  He  went  away.  Even  Jonas's  voice  was  a  little  soft- 
ened by  the  fearful  thought  ever  present  of  the  coming  on  of 
that  awful  midnight  of  the  eleventh  of  August.  All  were  sur- 
prised to  see  the  two  young  people  come  back. 

"  Father  Williams,"  said  August,  "  we  thought  we  should 
like  to  go  into  the  New  Jerusalem  man  and  wife.  Will  you 
marry  us?" 

"  Sensible  to  the  last !  "  cried  Jonas. 

"  According  to  the  laws  of  this  State,"  said  Mr.  Williams,  "  you 
can  not  be  married  without  a  license  from  the  clerk  of  the  county. 
Have  you  a  license  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  August,  his  heart  sinking. 

Just  then  Andrew  came  up  and  inquired  what  the  conversa- 
tion was  about. 

"  Why,  Uncle  Andrew,"  said  Julia  eagerly,  "  August  and  I 
don't  want  the  end  of  the  world  to  come  without  being  man  and 


THE   LAST   DAT   AND   WHAT   HAPPENED   IN    IT.         263 

wife.  And  we  have  no  license,  and  August  could  not  go  seven 
miles  and  back  to  get  a  license  before  midnight.  It  is  too  bad, 
isn't  it?  If  it  wasn't  that  we  think  the  end  of  the  world  is  so 
near,  I  should  be  ashamed  to  say  how  much  I  want  to  be  mar- 
ried. But  I  shall  be  proud  to  have  been  August's  wife,  when  I 
am  among  the  angels." 

"  You  are  a  noble  woman,"  said  Andrew.    "  Come  in,  let  us 
see  if  anything  can  be  done,"    And  he  led  the  way,  smiling. 


264 


THE    END    OF   THE   WORLD. 


CHAPTER    XLII. 


FOR    EVER'  AND    EVER. 


THEN  they  had  all  re-entered  the  castle,  An- 
drew made  them  sit  down.     The  old  minister 
not  see  any  escape  from  the   fatal  obstacle 
a  lack  of  license,  but  Andrew  was  very  mys- 
terious. 

"Virtue  is  its  own  reward,"  said  the  Philosopher,  "but  it 
often  finds  an  incidental  reward  besides.  Now,  Julia,  you  are 
the  noblest  woman  in  these  degenerate  times,  according  to  my 
way  of  thinking." 

"  That's  true  as  preachin',  ef  you'll  except  one,"  chirped  Jonas,  . 
with  a  significant  look  at  his  Cynthy  Ann.     Julia  blushed,  and 
the  old  minister  looked   inquiringly  at  Andrew  and  at  Julia. 
This  exaggerated  praise  from  a  man  so  misanthropic  as  Andrew 
excited  his  curiosity. 

"  Without  exception,"  said  Andrew  emphatically,  looking  first 
at  Jonas,  then  at  Mr.  Williams,  "  my  niece  is  the  noblest  woman 
I  ever  knew." 

"  Please  don't,  Uncle  Andrew  ! "  begged  Julia,  almost  speech- 
less with  shame.  Praise  was  something  she  could  not  bear.  She 
was  inured  to  censure. 


FOR    EVER   AND    EVER.  265 

"  Do  you  remember  that  dark  night— of  course  you  do— when 
you  braved  everything  and  came  here  to  see  August,  who  would 
have  died  but  for  your  coming  ?  "  Andrew  was  now  looking  at 
Julia,  who  answered  him  almost  inaudibly. 

"And  do  you  remember  when  we  got  to  your  gate,  on  your 
return,  what  you  said  to  me?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Julia. 

"  To  be  sure  you  do,  and  "  (turning  to  August)  "  I  shall  never 
forget  her  words ;  she  said,  '  If  he  should  get  worse,  I  should 
like  him  to  die  my  husband,  if  he  wishes  it.  Send  for  me,  day  or 
night,  and  I  will  come  in  spite  of  everything.'  " 

"  Did  you  say  that  ?  "  asked  August,  looking  at  her  eagerly. 

And  Julia  nodded  her  head,  and  lifted  her  eyes,  glistening 
with  brimming  tears,  to  his. 

"  You  do  not  know,"  said  Andrew  to  the  preacher,  "  how 
much  her  proposal  meant,  for  you  do  not  know  through  what 
she  would  have  had  to  pass.  But  I  say  that  God  does  sometimes 
reward  virtue  in  this  world — a  world  not  quite  worn  out  yet — 
and  she  is  worthy  of  the  reward  in  store  for  her." 

Saying  this,  Andrew  went  into  the  closet  leading  to  his  se- 
cret stairway — secret  no  longer,  since  Julia  had  ascended  by  that 
way — and  soon  came  down  from  his  library  with  a  paper  in  his 
hand. 

"  When  you,  my  noble-hearted  niece,  proposed  to  make  any 
sacrifice  to  marry  this  studious,  honest,  true-hearted  German 
gentleman,  who  is  worthy  of  you,  if  any  man  can  be,  I  thought 
best  to  be  ready  for  any  emergency,  and  so  I  went  the  next  day 
and  procured  the  license,  the  clerk  promising  to  keep  my  secret. 
A  marriage-license  is  good  for  thirty  days.  You  will  see,  Mr. 
Williams,  that  this  has  not  quite  expired." 


266  THE   END   OF   THE   WOKLD. 

The  minister  looked  at  it  and  then  said,  "  I  depend  on  your 
judgment,  Mr.  Anderson.  There  seems  to  be  something  peculiar 
about  the  circumstances  of  this  marriage." 

"  Very  peculiar,"  said  Andrew. 

"  You  give  me  your  word,  then,  that  it  is  a  marriage  I  ought 
to  solemnize  ?  " 

"The  lady  is  my  niece,"  said  Andrew.  "The  marriage, 
taking  place  in  this  castle,  will  shed  more  glory  upon  it  than  its 
whole  history  beside ;  and  you,  sir,  have  never  performed  a  mar- 
riage ceremony  in  a  case  where  the  marriage  was  so  excellent  as 
this." 

"Except  the  last  one,"  put  in  Jonas. 

I  suppose  Mr.  Williams  made  the  proper  reductions  for  An- 
drew's enthusiasm.  But  he  was  satisfied,  and  perhaps  he  was 
rather  inclined  "to  be  satisfied,  for  gentle-hearted  old  men  are 
quite  susceptible  to  a  romantic  situation. 

When  he  asked  August  if  he  would  live  with  this  woman 
in  holy  matrimony  "  so  long  as  ye  both  shall  live,"  August, 
thinking  the  two  hours  of  time  left  to  him  too  short  for  the 
earnestness  of  his  vows,  looked  the  old  minister  in  the  eyes, 
and  said    solemnly  :    "  For  ever  and  ever ! " 

"  No,  my  son,"  said  the  old  man,  smiling  and  almost  weep- 
ing, "  that  is  not  the  right  answer.  I  like  your  whole-hearted 
love.  But  it  is  far  easier  to  say  'for  ever  and  ever,'  standing  as 
you  think  you  do  now  on  the  brink  of  eternity,  than  to  say 
4  till  death  do  us  part,'  looking  down  a  long  and  weary  road  of 
toil  and  sickness  and  poverty  and  change  and  little  vexations. 
You  do  not  only  take  this  woman,  young  and  blooming,  but 
old  and  sick  and  withered  and  wearied,  perhaps.  Do  you  take 
her  for  any  lot?'? 


FOE  EVEB  AND   EVER.  267 

"  For  any  lot,"  said  August  solemnly  and  humbly. 

And  Julia,  on  her  part,  could  only  bow  her  head  in  reply  to 
the  questions,  for  the  tears  chased  one  another  down  her  cheeks. 
And  then  came  the  benediction.  The  inspired  old  man,  full  of 
hearty  sympathy,  stretched  his  trembling  hands  with  apostolic 
solemnity  over  the  heads  of  the  two,  and  said  slowly,  with  sol- 
emn pauses,  as  the  words  welled  up  out  of  his  soul :  "  The  peace 

of  God that  passeth  all  understanding  "  (here  his  voice  melted 

with  emotion) "  keep  your  hearts and  minds in  the 

knowledge  and  love  of  God.  And  now,  may  grace — mercy 

and  peace  from   God the  Father — and   our  Lord  Jesus 

Christ be  with  you  —  evermore Amen  ! "     And    to   the 

imagination  of  Julia  the  Spirit  of  God  descended  like  a  dove 
into  her  heart,  and  t"  e  great  mystery  of  wifely  love  and  the  other 
greater  mystery  of  love  to  God  seemed  to  flow  together  in  her 
soul.  And  the  quieter  spirit  of  August  was  suffused  with  a  great 
peace. 

They  soon  left  the  castle  to  return  to  the  mount  of  ascension, 
but  they  walked  slowly,  and  at  first  silently,  over  the  intervening 
hill,  which  gave  them  a  view  of  the  Ohio  River,  sleeping  in  its 
indescribable  beauty  and  stillness  in  the  moonlight. 

Presently  they  heard  the  melodious  voice  of  the  old  presiding 
elder,  riding  up  the  road  a  little  way  off,  singing  the  hopeful 
hymns  in  which  he  so  much  delighted.  The  rich  and  earnest 
voice  made  the  woods  ring  with  one  verse  of 

"  Oh !  how  happy  are  they 

Who  the  Saviour  obey. 
And  have  laid  up  their  treasure  above  I 

Tongue  can  never  express 

The  sweet  comfort  and  peace 
Of  a  soul  in  its  earliest  love." 


268  THE    END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

And  then  he  broke  into  Watts's 

"When  I  can  read  my  title  clear 
To  mansions  in  the  skies, 
I'll  bid  farewell  to  every  fear 
And  wipe  my  weeping  eyes  1 " 

There  seemed  to  be  some  accord  between  the  singing  of  the 
brave  old  man  and  the  peacefulness  of  the  landscape.  Soon  he 
had  reached  the  last  stanza,  and  in  tones  of  subdued  but  ecstatic 
triumph  he  sang : 

"  There  I  shall  bathe  my  weary  soul 
In  seas  of  heavenly  rest, 
And  not  a  wave  of  trouble  roll 
Across  my  peaceful  breast." 

And  with  these  words  he  passed  round  the  hill  and  out  of 
the  hearing  of  the  young  people. 

"  August,"  said  Julia  slowly,  as  if  afraid  to  break  a  silence 
so  blessed,  "  August,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  sky  and  the  river 
and  the  hazy  hills  and  my  own  soul  are  all  alike,  just  as  full  of 
happiness  and  peace  as  they  can  be." 

"  Yes,"  said  August,  smiling,  "  but  the  sky  is  clear,  and  your 
eyes  are  raining,  Julia.  But  can  it  be  possible  that  God,  who 
made  this  world  so  beautiful,  will  burn  it  up  to-night?  It  used 
to  seem  a  hard  world  to  me  when  I  was  away  from  you,  and 
I  didn't  care  how  quickly  it  burned  up.    But  now " 

Somehow  August  forgot  to  finish  that  sentence.  "Words  are 
of  so  little  use  under  such  circumstances.  A  little  pressure  on 
Julia's  arm  which  was  in  his,  told  all  that  he  meant.  When  love 
makes  earth  a  heaven,  it  is  enough. 

"  But  how  beautiful  the  new  earth  will  be,"  said  Julia,  still 
looking  at  the  sleeping  river,  "  the  river  of  life  will  be  clear  as 
crystal ! " 


FOB   EVER    AND    EVER.  269 

"Yes,"  said  August,  "  the  Spanish  version  says,  'Most  resplen- 
dent, like  unto  crystal.'" 

"  I  think,"  said  Julia,  "  that  it  must  he  something  like  this 
river.  The  trees  of  life  will  stand  on  either  side,  like  those 
great  sycamores  that  lean  over  the  water  so  gracefully." 

Any  landscape  would  have  seemed  heavenly  to  Julia  on  this 
night.  A  venerable  friend  of  mine,  a  true  Christian  philanthro- 
pist, whose  praise  is  in  all  the  churches,  wants  me  to  under- 
take to  reform  fictitious  literature  by  leaving  out  the  love.  And 
so  I  may  when  God  reforms  His  universe  by  leaving  out  the  love. 
Love  is  the  best  thing  in  novels ;  not  until  love  is  turned  out  of 
heaven  will  I  help  turn  it  out  of  literature.  It  is  only  the  mis- 
representation of  love  in  literature  that  is  bad,  as  the  poison- 
ing of  love  in  life  is  bad.  It  was  the  love  of  August  that  had 
opened  Julia's  heart  to  the  influences  of  heaven,  and  Julia  was  to 
August  a  mediator  of  God's  grace. 

By  eleven  o'clock  August  Wehle  and  his  wife — it  gives  me 
nearly  as  much  pleasure  as  it  did  August  to  use  that  locution 
— were  standing  not  far  away  from  the  surging  crowd  of  those 
who,  in  singing  hymns  and  in  excited  prayer,  were  waiting 
for  the  judgment.  Jonas  and  Cynthy  and  Andrew  were  with 
them.  August,  though  not  a  recognized  Millerite,  almost  blamed 
himself  that  he  should  have  been  away  these  two  hours  from  the 
services.  But  why  should  he  ?  The  most  sacramental  of  all  the 
sacraments  is  marriage.  Is  it  not  an  arbitrary  distinction  of  the- 
ologians, that  which  makes  two  rites  to  be  sacraments  and  others 
not  ?  But  if  the  distinction  is  to  be  made  at  all,  I  should  apply 
the  solemn  word  to  the  solemnest  rite  and  the  holiest  ordinance 
of  God's,  even  if  I  left  out  the  sacred  washing  in  the  name  of  the 
Trinity  and  the  broken  emblematic  bread  and  the  wine.    These 


270  THE   END    OP   THE    WORLD. 

are  sacramental  in  their  solemn   symbolism,  that  in  the  solem- 
nest  symbolism  and  the  holiest  reality. 

August's  whole  attention  was  now  turned  toward  the  com- 
ing judgment;  and  as  he  stood  thinking  of  the  awfulness  of 
this  critical  moment,  the  exercises  of  the  Adventists  grated 
on  the  deep  peacefulness  of  his  spirit,  for  from  singing  their 
more  beautiful  hymns,  they  had  passed  to  an  excited  shouting  of 
the  old  camp-meeting  ditty  whose  refrain  is : 

"I  hope  to  shout  glory  when  this  world's  all  on  fire !    Hallelujah  !  " 

He  and  Julia  hung  back  a  moment,  but  Mrs.  Abigail,  who 
had  recovered  from  her  tenth  trance,  and  had  been  for  some  time 
engaged  in  an  active  search  for  Julia,  now  pounced  upon  her, 
and  bore  her  off,  before  she  had  time  to  think,  to  the  place  of 
the  hottest  excitement. 


THE   MIDNIGHT    ALA  KM.  271 


CHAPTER    XLIH. 

THE    MIDNIGHT     ALARM. 

T  last  the  time  drew  on  toward  midnight,  the 
hour  upon  which  all  expectation  was  concentrated. 
For  did  not  the  Parable  of  the  Ten  Virgins  speak 
of  the  coming  of  the  bridegroom  at  midnight  ? 
"My  friends  and  brethren,"  said  Elder  Han- 
kins,  his  voice  shaking  with  emotion,  as  he  held  his  watch  up 
in  the  moonlight,  "  My  friends  and  brethren,  ef  the  Word  is  true, 
they  is  but  five  minutes  more  before  the  comin'  in  of  the  new 
dispensation.  Let  us  spend  the  last  moments  of  time  in  silent 
devotion." 

"  I  wonder  ef  he  thinks  the  world  runs  down  by  his  pay- 
ten  t-leever  watch  ? "  said  Jonas,  who  could  not  resist  the  im- 
pulse to  make  the  remark,  even  with  the  expectation  of  the  im- 
mediate coming  of  the  day  of  judgment  in  his  mind. 

"  I  wonder  for  what  longitude  he  calculates  prophecy  ?  "  said 
Andrew.  "  It  can  not  be  midnight  all  round  the  world  at  the 
same  moment." 

But  Elder  Hankins's  flock  did  not  take  any  astronomical  diffi- 
culty into  consideration.  And  no  spectator  could  look  upon  them, 
bowing  silently  in  prayer,  awed  by  the  expectation  of  the  sud- 


272  THE    END    OF    THE    WORLD. 

den  coming  of  the  Lord,  without  feeling  that,  however  much 
the  expectation  might  be  illusory,  the  emotion  was  a  fact  abso- 
lutely awful.  Events  are  only  sublime  as  they  move  the  human 
soul,  and  the  swift-coming  end  of  time  was  subjectively  a  great 
reality  to  these  waiting  people.  Even  Andrew  was  awe-stricken 
from  sympathy ;  as  Coleridge,  when  he  stood  godfather  for 
Keble's  child,  was  overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of  the  significance 
of  the  sacrament  from  Keble's  stand-point.  As  for  Cynthy  Ann, 
she  trembled  with  fear  as  she  held  fast  to  the  arm  of  Jonas. 
And  Jonas  felt  as  much  seriousness  as  was  possible  to  him,  until 
he  heard  Norman  Anderson's  voice  crying  with  terror  and  excite- 
ment, and  felt  Cynthy  shudder  on  his  arm. 

"  Fer  my  part,"  said  Jonas,  turning  to  Andrew,  "  it  don't  seem 
like  as  ef  it  was  much  use  to  holler  and  make  a  furss  about  the 
corn  crap  when  October's  fairly  sot  in,  and  the  frost  has  nipped 
the  blades.  All  the  plowin'  and  hoein'  and  weedin'  and  thinnin' 
out  the  suckers  won't  better  the  yield  then.  An'  when  wheat's 
ripe,  they's  nothin'  to  be  done  fer  it.  It's  got  to  be  rep  jest  as 
it  Stan's.  I'm  rale  sorry,  to-night,  as  my  life  a'n't  no  better,  but 
what's  the  use  of  cryin'  over  it  ?  They's  nothin'  to  do  now 
but  let  it  be  gethered  and  shelled  out,  and  measured  up  in 
the  standard  half -bushel  of  the  sanctuary.  And  I'm  afeard  they'll 
be  a  heap  of  nubbins  not  wuth  the  shuckin'.  But  ef  it  don't 
come  to  six  bushels  the  acre,  I  can't  help  it  now  by  takin'  on." 
I  At  twelve  o'clock,  even  the  scoffers  were  silent.  But  as  the 
sultry  night  drew  on  toward  one  o'clock,  Bill  Day  and  his  party 
felt  their  spirits  revive  a  little.  The  calculation  had  failed  in 
one  part,  and  it  might  in  all.  Bill  resumed  his  burlesque  exhorta- 
tions to  the  rough-looking  "  brethren "  about  him.  He  tried  to 
lead  them  in  singing  some  ribald  parody  of  Adventist  hymns, 


THE    MIDXIGHT   ALARM.  273 

but  his  terror  and  theirs  was  too  genuine,  and  their  voices  died 
down  into  husky  whispers,  and  they  were  more  alarmed  than 
ever  at  discovering  the  extent  of  their  own  demoralization.  The 
bottle,  one  of  those  small-necked,  big-bodied  quart-bottles  that 
Western  topers  carry  in  yellow-cotton  handkerchiefs,  was  passed 
round.  But  even  the  whisky  seemed  powerless  to  neutralize 
their  terror,  rather  increasing  the  panic  by  fuddling  their  faculties. 

"  Boys  ! "  said  Bob  Short,  trembling,  and  sitting  down  on  a 
stump,  "this — this  ere  thing — is  a  gittin'  serious.  Ef— well,  ef 
it  was  to  happen — you  know — you  don't  s'pose— ahem — you  don't 
think  God  A'mighty  would  be  too  heavy  on  a  feller.  Do  ye  ?  Ef 
it  was  to  come  to-night,  it  would  be  blamed  short  notice." 

At  one  o'clock  the  moon  was  just  about  dipping  behind  the 
hills,  and  the  great  sycamores,  standing  like  giant  sentinels  on 
the  river's  marge,  cast  long  unearthly  shadows  across  the  water, 
which  grew  blacker  every  minute.  The  deepening  gloom  gave 
all  objects  in  the  river  valley  a  weird,  distorted  look.  This  op- 
pressed August.  The  landscape  seemed  an  enchanted  one,  a 
something  seen  in  a  dream  or  a  delirium.  It  was  as  though  the 
change  had  already  come,  and  the  real  tangible  world  had  passed 
away.  He  was  the  more  susceptible  from  the  depression  caused 
by  the  hot  sultriness  of  the  night,  and  his  separation  from  Julia. 

He  thought  he  would  try  to  penetrate  the  crowd  to  the  point 
where  his  mother  was ;  then  he  would  be  near  her,  and  nearer 
to  Julia  if  anything  happened.  A  curious  infatuation  had  taken 
hold  of  August.  He  knew  that  it  was  an  infatuation,  but 
he  could  not  shake  it  off.  He  had  resolved  that  in  case  the  trum- 
pet should  be  heard  in  the  heavens,  he  would  seize  Julia  and 
claim  her  in  the  very  moment  of  universal  dissolution.  He 
reached  his  mother,  and  as  he  looked  into  her  calm  face,  ready 


274  THE    END    OP   THE    WOBLD. 

for  the  millennium  or  for  anything  else  "the  Father"  should 
decree,  he  thought  she  had  never  seemed  more  glorious  than 
she  did  now,  sitting  with  her  children  about  her,  almost  unmoved 
by  the  excitement.  For  Mrs.  Wehle  had  come  to  take  every- 
thing as  from  the  Heavenly  Father.  She  had  even  received 
Jionest  but  thick-headed  Gottlieb  in  this  spirit,  when  he  had 
fallen  to  her  by  the  Moravian  lot,  a  husband  chosen  for  her 
by  the  Lord,  whose  will  was  not  to  be  questioned. 

August  was  just  about  to  speak  to  his  mother,  when  he 
was  forced  to  hang  his  head  in  shame,  for  there  was  his  father 
rising  to  exhort. 

"  O  mine  freunde  !  pe  shust  immediadely  all  of  de  dime  retty. 
Ton't  led  your  vait  vail  already,  and  ton't  let  de  debil  git  no 
unter  holts  on  ye.     Vatch  and  pe  retty !  " 

And  August  could  hear  the  derisive  shouts  of  Bill  Day's  party, 
who  had  recovered  their  courage,  crying  out,  "  Go  it,  ole  Dutch- 
man !  I'll  bet  on  you ! "  He  clenched  his  fist  in  anger,  but 
his  mother's  eyes,  looking  at  him  with  quiet  rebuke,  pacified  him 
in  a  moment.  Yet  he  could  not  help  wondering  whether  blun- 
dering kinsfolk  made  people  blush  in  the  next  world. 

"  Holt  on  doo  de  last  ent ! "  continued  Gottlieb.  "  It's  pout 
goom !  Kood  pye,  ole  moon !  You  koes  town,  you  nebber 
goorus  pack  no  more  already." 

This  exhortation  might  have  proceeded  in  this  strain  indefi- 
nitely, to  the  mortification  of  August  and  the  amusement  of  the 
profane,  had  there  not  just  at  that  moment  broken  upon  the 
sultry  stillness  of  the  night  one  of  those  crescendo  thunder-bursts, 
beginning  in  a  distant  rumble,  and  swelling  out  louder  and  still 
louder,  until  it  ended  with  a  tremendous  detonation.  In  the 
strange  light  of  the  setting  moon,  while  everybody's  attention 


THE   MIDNIGHT   ALARM.  275" 

was  engrossed  by  the  excitement,  the  swift  oncoming  of  a  thun- 
der-cloud had  not  been  observed  by  any  but  Andrew,  and  it 
had  already  climbed  half-way  to  the  zenith,  blotting  out  a  third 
of  the  firmament.  This  inverted  thunder-bolt  produced  a  start- 
ling effect  upon  the  over-strained  nerves  of  the  crowd.  Some 
cried  out  with  terror,  some  sobbed  with  hysterical  agony,  some 
shouted  in  triumph,  and  it  was  generally  believed  that  Virginia 
"Waters,  who  died  a  maniac  many  years  afterward,  lost  her  reason 
at  that  moment.  Bill  Day  ceased  his  mocking,  and  shook  till  his 
teeth  chattered.  And  none  of  his  party  dared  laugh  at  him. 
The  moon  had  now  gone,  and  the  vivid  lightning  followed  the 
thunder,  and  yet  louder  and  more  fearful  thunder  succeeded 
the  lightning.  The  people  ran  about  as  if  demented,  and  Julia 
was  left  alone.  August  had  only  one  thought  in  all  this  con- 
fusion, and  that  was  to  find  Julia.  Having  found  her,  they 
clasped  hands,  and  stood  upon  the  brow  of  the  hill  calmly 
watching  the  coming  tempest,  believing  it  to  be  the  coming  of 
the  end.  Between  the  claps  of  thunder  they  could  hear  the 
broken  sentences  of  Elder  Hankins,  saying  something  about  the 
lightning  that  shineth  from  one  part  of  heaven  to  the  other,  and 
about  the  promised  coming  in  the  clouds.  But  they  did  not 
much  heed  the  words.  They  were  looking  the  blinding  light- 
ning in  the  face,  and  in  their  courageous  trust  they  thought 
themselves  ready  to  look  into  the  flaming  countenance  of  the 
Almighty,  if  they  should  be  called  before  Him.  Every  fresh 
burst  of  thunder  seemed  to  August  to  be  the  rocking  of  the 
world,  trembling  in  the  throes  of  dissolution.  But  the  world 
might  crumble  or  melt ;  there  is  something  more  enduring  than 
the  world.  August  felt  the  everlastingness  of  love;  as  many 
another  man  in  a  supreme  crisis  has  felt  it. 


-276  THE   END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

But  the  swift  cloud  had  already  covered  half  the  sky,  and 
the  bursts  of  thunder  followed  one  another  now  in  quicker  suc- 
cession. And  as  suddenly  as  the  thunder  had  come,  came  the 
wind.  A  solitary  old  sycamore,  leaning  over  the  water  on  the 
Kentucky  shore,  a  mile  away,  was  first  to  fall.  In  the  lurid  dark- 
ness, August  and  Julia  saw  it  meet  its  fate.  Then  the  rail  fences 
on  the  nearer  bank  were  scattered  like  kindling-wood,  and  some 
of  the  sturdy  old  apple-trees  of  the  orchard  in  the  river-bottom 
were  uprooted,  while  others  were  stripped  of  their  boughs. 
Julia  clung  to  August  and  said  something,  but  he  could  only  see 
her  lips  move ;  her  voice  was  drowned  by  the  incessant  roar  of 
the  thunder.  And  then  the  hurricane  struck  them,  and  they 
half-ran  and  were  half-carried  down  the  rear  slope  of  the 
hill.  Now  they  saw  for  the  first  time  that  the  people  were 
gone.  The  instinct  of  self-preservation  had  proven  stronger 
than  their  fanaticism,  and  a  contagious  panic  had  carried  them 
into  a  hay-barn  near  by. 

Not  knowing  where  the  rest  had  gone,  August  and  Julia 
only  thought  of  regaining  the  castle.  They  found  the  path 
blocked  by  fallen  trees,  and  it  was  slow  and  dangerous  work, 
waiting  for  flashes  of  lightning  to  show  them  their  road.  In 
making  a  long  detour  they  lost  the  path.  After  some  minutes, 
in  a  lull  in  the  thunder,  August  heard  a  shout,  which  he  an- 
swered, and  presently  Philosopher  Andrew  appeared  with  a  lan- 
tern, his  grizzled  hair  and  beard  flying  in  the  wind. 

"  What  ho,  my  friends  ! "  he  cried.  "  This  is  the  way  you  go 
to  heaven  together !    You'll  live  through  many  a  storm  yet ! " 

Guided  by  his  thorough  knowledge  of  the  ground,  they  had 
almost  reached  the  castle,  when  they  were  startled  by  piteous 
cries.    Leaving  August  with  Julia,  Andrew  climbed  a  fence,  and 


THE    MIDNIGHT    ALARM.  277 

went  down  into  a  ravine  to  find  poor  Bill  Day  in  an  agony  of 
terror,  crying  out  in  despair,  believing  that  the  day  of  doom 
had  already  come,  and  that  he  was  about  to  be  sent  into  well- 
deserved  perdition.  Andrew  stooped  over  him  with  his  lantern, 
but  the  poor  fellow,  giving  one  look  at  the  shaggy  face,  shrieked 
madly,  and  rushed  away  into  the  woods. 

"  I  believe,"  said  the  Philosopher,  when  he  got  back  to  August, 
"  I  believe  he  took  me  for  the  devil." 


$ 

278  THE   END    OF  THE   WORLD. 


CHAPTER     XLIV. 

SQUARING   ACCOUNTS. 

^L^HE  summer  storm  had  spent  itself  by  daylight, 
and  the  sun  rose  on  that  morning  after  the  world's 
end  much  as  it  had  risen  on  other  mornings,  but  it 
looked  down  upon  prostrate  trees  and  scattered  fences 
and  roofless  barns.  And  the  minds  of  the  people  were 
in  much  the  same  disheveled  state  as  the  landscape.  One  simple- 
minded  girl  was  a  maniac.  Some  declared  that  the  world  had 
ended,  and  that  this  was  the  new  earth,  if  people  only  had  faith 
to  receive  it ;  some  still  waited  for  the  end,  and  with  some  the 
reaction  from  credulity  had  already  set  in,  a  reaction  that  carried 
them  into  the  blankest  atheism  and  boldest  immorality.  People 
who  had  spent  the  summer  in  looking  for  a  change  that  would 
relieve  them  from  all  responsibility,  now  turned  reluctantly 
toward  the  commonplace  drudgery  of  life.  It  is  the  evil  of  all 
day-dreaming — day-dreaming  about  the  other  world  included — 
that  it  unfits  us  for  duty  in  this  world  of  tangible  and  inevitable 
facts. 

It  was  nearly  daylight  when  Andrew  and  August  and  Julia 
reached  the  castle.    The  Philosopher  advised  Julia  to  go  home, 


SQUARING    ACCOUNTS.  279 

and  for  the  present  to  let  the  marriage  be  as  though  it  were 
not.  August  dreaded  to  see  Julia  returned  to  her  mother's 
tyranny,  but  Andrew  was  urgent  in  his  advice,  and  Julia  said  that 
she  must  not  leave  her  mother  in  her  trouble.  Julia  reached 
home  a  little  after  daylight,  and  a  little  before  Mrs.  Anderson 
was  brought  home  in  a  fit  of  hysterics. 

Poor  Mrs.  Abigail  still  hoped  that  the  end  of  the  world  for 
which  she  had  so  fondly  prepared  would  come,  but  as  the  days 
wore  on  she  sank  into  a  numb  despondency.  When  she  thought 
of  the  loss  of  her  property,  she  groaned  and  turned  her  face  to 
the  wall.  And  Samuel  Anderson  sat  about  the  house  in  a 
dumb  and  shiftless  attitude,  as  do  most  men  upon  whom  finan- 
cial ruin  comes  in  middle  life.  The  disappointment  of  his  faith 
and  the  overthrow  of  his  fortune  had  completely  paralyzed  him. 
He  was  waiting  for  something,  he  hardly  knew  what.  He  had 
not  even  his  wife's  driving  voice  to  stimulate  him  to  exertion. 

There  was  no  one  now  to  care  for  Mrs.  Anderson  but  Julia, 
for  Cynthy  had  taken  up  her  abode  in  the  log-cabin  which  Jonas 
had  bought,  and  a  happier  housekeeper  never  lived.  She  watched 
Jonas  till  he  disappeared  when  he  went  to  work  in  the  morning, 
she  carried  him  a  "  snack  "  at  ten  o'clock,  and  he  always  found  her 
standing  "  like  a  picter  "  at  the  gate,  when  he  came  home  to  din- 
ner. But  Cynthy  Ann  generally  spent  her  afternoons  at  An- 
derson's, helping  "  that  young  thing "  to  bear  her  responsibili- 
ties, though  Mrs.  Anderson  would  receive  no  personal  attentions 
now  from  any  one  but  her  daughter.  She  did  not  scold;  her 
querulous  restlessness  was  but  a  reminiscence  of  her  scolding. 
She  lay,  disheartened,  watching  Julia,  and  exacting  everything 
from  Julia,  and  the  weary  feet  and  weary  heart  of  the  girl  almost 
sank  under  her  burdens.    Mrs.  Anderson  had  suddenly  fallen 


280  THE   END    OP   THE   WORLD. 

from  her  position  of  an  exacting  tyrant  to  that  of  an  exacting  and 
helpless  infant.  She  followed  Julia  with  her  eyes  in  a  broken- 
spirited  fashion,  as  if  fearing  that  she  would  leave  her.  Julia 
could  read  the  fear  in  her  mother's  countenance ;  she  understood 
what  her  mother  meant  when  she  said  querulously,  "  You'll  get 
married  and  leave  me."  If  Mrs.  Anderson  had  assumed  her  old 
high-handed  manner,  it  would  have  been  easy  for  Julia  to  have 
declared  her  secret.  But  how  could  she  tell  her  now  ?  It  would 
be  a  blow,  it  might  be  a  fatal  blow.  And  at  the  same  time  how 
could  she  satisfy  August?  He  thought  she  had  bowed  to  the 
same  old  tyranny  again  for  an  indefinite  time.  But  she  could 
not  forsake  her  parents  in  their  poverty  and  afflictions. 

The  fourteenth  of  August,  the  day  on  which  possession  was  to 
have  been  given  to  Bob  Walker,  came  and  went,  but  no  Bob 
Walker  appeared.  A  week  more  passed,  in  which  Samuel  An- 
derson could  not  muster  enough  courage  to  go  to  see  Walker,  in 
which  Samuel  Anderson  and  his  wife  waited  in  a  vague  hope 
that  something  might  happen.  And  every  day  of  that  week 
Julia  had  a  letter  from  August,  which  did  not  say  one  word  of  the 
trial  that  it  was  for  him  to  wait,  but  which  said  much  of  the 
wrong  Julia  was  doing  to  herself  to  submit  so  long.  And  Julia, 
like  her  father  and  mother,  was  waiting  for  she  knew  not  what. 

At  last  the  suspense  became  to  her  unendurable. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  "  why  don't  you  go  to  see  Bob  Walker? 
You  might  buy  the  farm  back  again." 

"  I  don't  know  why  he  don't  come  and  take  it,"  said  Mr. 
Anderson  dejectedly. 

This  conversation  roused  Mrs.  Abigail.  There  was  some  hope. 
She  got  up  in  bed,  and  told  Samuel  to  go  to  the  county-seat  and 
see  if  the  deeds  had  ever  been  recorded.    And  while  her  husband 


SQUARING     ACCOUNTS.  281 

was  gone  she  sat  up  and  looked  better,  and  even  scolded  a  little, 
so  that  Julia  felt  encouraged.  But  she  dreaded  to  see  her  father 
come  back. 

Samuel  Anderson  entered  the  house  on  his  return  -with  a  blank 
countenance.  Sitting  down,  he  put  his  face  between  his  hands 
a  minute  in  utter  dejection. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  ? "  said  Mrs.  Anderson  in  a  broken 
voice.  • 

"  The  land  was  all  transferred  to  Andrew  immediately,  and  he 
owns  every  foot  of  it.  He  must  lave  sent  Bob  Walker  here 
to  buy  it." 

"  Oh  !  I'm  so  glad  ! "  cried  Julia. 

But  her  mother  only  gave  her  oi«e  reproachful  look  and  went 
off  into  hysterical  sobbing  and  crying  over  the  wrong  that 
Andrew  had  done  her.  And  all  that  night  Julia  watched  by 
her  mother,  while  Samuel  Anderson  sat  in  dejection  by  the  bed. 
As  for  Norman,  he  had  quickly  relapsed  into  his  old  habits,  and 
his  former  cronies  had  generously  forgiven,  him  his  temporary 
piety,  considering  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  the  case  some 
extenuation.  Now  that  there  was  trouble  in  the  house  he  staid 
away,  which  was  a  good  thing  so  far  as  it  went. 

The  next  afternoon  Mrs.  Anderson  rallied  a  little,  and,  looking 
at  Julia,  she  said  in  her  querulous  way,  "  Why  don't  you  go  and 
see  him  ?  " 

"  Who  ?  "  said  Julia  with  a  shiver,  afraid  that  her  mother  was 
insane. 

"  Andrew." 

Julia  did  not  need  any  second  hint.  Leaving  her  mother 
with  Cynthy,  she  soon  presented  herself  at  the  door  of  the  castle. 

"  Did  she  send  you?  "  asked  Andrew  dryly. 


THE    END    OP   THE   WORLD. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  I've  been  expecting  you  for  a  long  time.  I'll  go  back  with 
you.  But  August  must  go  along.  He'll  be  glad  of  an  excuse 
to  see  your  face  again.    You  look  thin,  my  poor  girl." 

They  went  past  Wehle's,  and  August  was  only  too  glad  to  join 
them,  rejoicing  that  some  sort  of  a  crisis  had  come,  though  how 
it  was  to  help  him  he  did  not  know.  With  the  restlessness  of  a 
man  looking  for  some  indefinable  thing  to  turn  up,  Samuel  was 
out  on  the  porch  waiting  the  return  of  his  daughter.  Jonas  had 
come  for  Cynthy  Ann,  and  was  sitting  on  a  "  shuck-bottom  " 
chair  in  front  of  the  house. 

Andrew  reached  out  his  hand  and  greeted  his  brother  cor- 
dially, and  spoke  civilly  to  Abigail.  Then  there  was  a  pause, 
and  Mrs.  Anderson  turned  her  head  to  the  wall  and  groaned. 
After  a  while  she  looked  round  and  saw  August.  A  little  of  her 
old  indignation  came  into  her  eyes  as  she  whimpered,  "  What 
did  Tie  come  for  ?  " 

"  I  brought  him,"  said  Andrew. 

"  Well,  it's  your  house,  do  as  you  please.  I  suppose  you'll 
turn  us  out  of  our  own  home  now." 

"As  you  did  me,"  said  the  Philosopher,  smiling.  "Let  me 
remind  you  that  I  was  living  on  the  river  farm.  My  father  had 
promised  it  to  me,  and  given  me  possession.  A  week  before  his 
death  you  got  the  will  changed,  by  what  means  you  know. 
You  turned  me  off  the  farm  which  had  virtually  been  mine  for 
two  years.    If  I  turn  you  off  now,  it  will  be  no  more  than  fair." 

There  was  a  look  of  pained  surprise  on  Julia's  face.  She  had 
not  known  that  the  wrong  her  uncle  had  suffered  was  so  great. 
She  had  not  thought  that  he  would  be  so  severe  as  to  turn 
her  father  out. 


SQUABING    ACCOUNTS.  283 

"I  don't  want  to  talk  of  these  things,"  Andrew  went  on. 
"  I  ought  to  have  broken  the  will,  but  I  was  not  a  believer  in 
the  law.  I  tell  this  story  now  because  I  must  justify  myself 
to  these  young  people  for  what  I  am  going  to  do.  You  have 
had  the  use  of  that  part  of  the  estate  which  was  rightfully 
mine  for  twenty  years.     I  suppose  I  may  claim  it  all  now." 

Julia's  eyes  looked  at  him  pleadingly. 

"  "Why  don't  you  send  us  off  and  be  done  with  it  then  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  Abigail,  rising  up  and  resuming  her  old  vehemence.  "  You 
set  out  to  ruin  us,  and  now  you've  done  it.  A  nice  brother  you 
are !  Ruining  us  by  a  conspiracy  with  Bob  Walker,  and  then 
sitting  here  and  trying  to  make  my  own  daughter  think  you  did 
right,  and  bringing  that  hateful  fellow  here  to  hear  it!"  Her 
finger  was  leveled  at  August. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  are  better,  Abigail.  I  wanted  to  be 
sure  you  were  strong  enough  to  bear  all  I  have  to  say." 

"  Say  your  worst  and  do  your  worst,  you  cruel,  cruel  man !  I 
have  borne  enough  from  you  in  these  years,  and  now  you  can  say 
and  do  what  you  please ;  you  can't  do  me  any  more  harm.  I 
suppose  I  must  leave  my  old  home  that  I've  lived  in  so  long." 

"You  need  not  worry  yourself  about  leaving;  that's  what  I 
came  over  to  say." 

"As  if  I'd  stay  in  your  house  an  hour!  I'll  not  take  any 
favors  at  your  hand." 

"Don't  be  rash,  Abigail.  I  have  deeded  this  hill  farm  to 
Samuel,  and  here  is  the  deed.  I  have  given  you  back  the  best 
half  of  the  property,  just  what  my  father  meant  you  to  have. 
I  have  only  kept  the  river  land,  that  should  have  been  mine 
twenty  years  ago.  I  hope  you  will  not  stick  to  your  resolution 
not  to  receive  anything  at  my  hand." 


284  THE   END    OF   THE   WORLD. 

And  Julia  said :   "  Oh !   I'm  so 1 

But  Mrs.  Anderson  had  a  convenient  fit  of  hysterics,  crying 
piteously.    Meantime  Samuel  gladly  accepted  the  deed. 

"  The  deed  is  already  recorded.  I  sent  it  down  yesterday  as 
soon  as  I  saw  Samuel  come  hack,  and  I  got  it  back  this  morn- 
ing.   The  farm  is  yours  without  condition." 

This  relieved  Abigail,  and  she  soon  ceased  her  sobbing. 
Andrew  could  not  take  it  back  then,  whatever  she  might 
say. 

"  Now,"  said  Andrew,  "  I  have  only  divided  the  farms  with- 
out claiming  any  damages.  I  want  to  ask  a  favor.  Let  Julia 
marry  tbe  man  of  her  choice  in  peace." 

"You  have  taken  one  farm,  and  therefore  I  must  let  my 
daughter  marry  a  man  with  nothing  but  his  two  hands,"  sobbed 
Mrs.  Anderson. 

"  Two  hands  and  a  good  head  and  a  noble  heart,"  said 
Andrew. 

"  Well,  I  won't  consent,"  said  she.  "  If  Julia  marries  him" 
pointing  to  August,  "she  will  marry  without  my  consent,  and 
he  will  not  get  a  cent  of  the  money  he's  after.     Not  a  red  cent !  " 

"  I  don't  want  your  money.  I  did  not  know  you'd  get  your 
farm  back,  for  I  did  not  know  but  that  Walker  owned  it,  and 
I — wanted — Julia  all  the  same."  August  had  almost  told  that 
he  had  married  Julia. 

"Wanted  her  and  married  her,"  said  Andrew.  "And  I  have 
not  kept  a  corn-stalk  of  the  property  I  got  from  you.  I  have 
given  Bob  Walker  a  ten-acre  patch  for  his  services,  and  all  the 
rest  I  have  deeded  to  the  two  best  people  I  know.  This  August 
Wehle  married  Julia  Anderson  when  they  thought  the  world 
might  be  near  its  end,  and  believing  that,  at  any  rate,  she  would 


SQUARING    ACCOUNTS.  285 

not  have  a  penny  in  the  world.  I  have  deeded  the  river  farm  to 
August  Wehle  and  his  wife." 

"  Married,  eh  ?  Come  and  ask  my  consent  afterwards  ? 
That's  a  fine  way ! "  And  Abigail  grew  white  and  grew  silent 
with  passion. 

"  Come,  August,  I  want  to  show  you  and  Julia  something," 
said  Andrew.  He  really  wanted  to  give  Abigail  time  to  look  the 
matter  in  the  face  quietly  before  she  committed  herself  too  far. 
But  he  told  the  two  young  people  that  they  might  make  their 
home  with  him  while  their  house  was  in  building.  He  had 
already  had  part  of  the  material  drawn,  and  from  the  brow 
of  the  hill  they  looked  down  upon  the  site  he  had  chosen  near 
the  old  tumble-down  tenant's  house.  But  Andrew  saw  that 
Julia  looked  disappointed. 

"You  are  not  satisfied,  my  brave  girl.    What  is  the  matter?" 

"  Oh  !  yes,  I  am  very  happy,  and  very  thankful  to  you ;  and 

next  to  August  I  love  you  more  than  anybody except  my 

parents." 

"  But  something  is  different  to  what  you  wished  it.  Doesn't 
the  site  suit  you  ?  You  can  look  off  on  to  the  river  from  the  rise 
on  which  the  house  will  stand,  and  I  do  not  know  how  it  could 
be  better." 

"  It  couldn't  be  better,"  said  Julia,  "but ' 

"  But  what  ?    You  must  tell  me." 

"  I  thought  maybe  you'd  let  us  live  at  the  castle  and  take  the 
burden  of  things  off  you.  I  should  like  to  keep  your  house  for 
you,  just  to  show  you  how  much  I  love  my  dear,  good  uncle." 

Even  an  anchorite  could  not  help  feeling  a  pleasure  at  such  a 
speech  from  such  a  young  woman,  and  this  shaggy,  solitary,  mis- 
anthropic but  tender-hearted  man  felt  a  sudden  rush  of  pleasure. 


286  THE   END   OP   THE  WOELD. 

August  saw  it,  and  was  delighted.  What  one's  nearest  friend 
thinks  of  one's  wife  is  a  vital  question,  and  August  was  happier 
at  this  moment  than  he  had  ever  been.  Andrew's  pleasure  at 
Julia's  loving  speech  was  the  climax. 

"  Yes  ! "  said  the  Philosopher,  a  little  huskily.  "  You  want  to 
sacrifice  your  pleasure  by  living  in  my  gloomy  old  castle,  and 
civilizing  an  old  heathen  like  me.  You  mustn't  tempt  me  too 
far." 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  call  it  gloomy.  It  wasn't  only  for  your 
sake  that  I  said  it.  I  think  it  is  the  nicest  old  house  I  ever  saw. 
And  then  the  books,  and — and — you."  Julia  stumbled  a  little,  she 
was  not  accustomed  to  make  speeches  of  this  sort. 

"You  flatterer!"  burst  out  Andrew.  "But  no,  you  must 
have  your  own  house." 

Mrs.  Anderson,  on  her  part,  had  concluded  to  make  the  best 
of  it.  Julia  already  married  and  the  mistress  of  the  Anderson 
river  farm  was  quite  a  different  thing  from  Julia  under  her 
thumb.  She  was  to  be  conciliated.  Besides,  Mrs.  Anderson  did 
not  want  Julia's  prosperity  to  be  a  lifelong  source  of  humiliation 
to  her.     She  must  take  some  stock  in  it  at  the  start. 

"  Jule,"  she  said,  as  her  daughter  re-entered  the  door,  "  I  can 
let  you  have  two  feather-beds  and  four  pillows,  and  a  good 
stock  of  linen  and  blankets.  And  you  can  have  the  two  heifers 
and  the  sorrel  colt." 

The  two  "  heifers  "  were  six,  and  the  sorrel  "  colt "  was  seven 
years  of  age;  but  descriptive  names  often  outlive  the  qualities 
to  which  they  owed  their  origin.  Just  as  a  judge  is  even  yet 
addressed  as  "your  honor,"  and  many  a  governor  without  any- 
thing to  recommend  him  hears  himself  called  "  your  excellency." 

When  Abigail  surrendered  in  this  graceful  fashion,  Julia  was 


SQUARING    ACCOUNTS.  287 

touched,  and  was  on  the  point  of  putting  her  arms  around  her 
mother  and  kissing  her.  But  Mrs.  Anderson  was  not  a  person 
easily  caressed,  and  Julia  did  not  yield  to  her  impulse. 

"  Cynthy  Ann,  my  dear,"  said  Jonas,  as  they  walked  home 
that  evening,  "  do  you  know  what  Abig'il  Anderson  reminds 
me  of?" 

No  ;  Cynthy  Ann  didn't  exactly  know.  In  fact,  it  would  have 
been  difficult  for  anybody  to  have  told  what  anything  was  likely 
to  remind  Jonas  of.  There  was  no  knowing  what  a  thing 
might  not  suggest  to  him. 

"  Well,  Cynthy,  my  Imperial  Sweetness,  when  I  see  Abig'il 
come  down  so  beautiful,  it  reminded  me  of  a  little  fice-t  dog  I 
had  when  I  was  a  leetle  codger.  I  called  him  Pick.  His  name 
was  Picayune.     Purty  good  name,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was." 

"  Well,  now,  that  air  little  Pick  wouldn't  never  own  up  as 
he  was  driv  outen  the  house.  When  he  was  whipped  out,  he 
wouldn't  never  tuck  his  tail  down,  but  curl  it  up  over  his  back, 
and  run  acrost  the  yard  and  through  the  fence  and  down  the 
road  a-barkin'  fit  to  kill.  Wanted  to  let  on  like  as  ef  he'd  run 
out  of  his  own  accord,  with  malice  aforethought,  you  know. 
Thafa  Abig'il." 


THE   END    OF   THE   WORLD. 


CHAPTER     XLV, 

NEW    PLANS. 


XCEPT  Abigail  Anderson  and  one  other  person, 
everybody    in    the    little    world   of   Clark   town- 


ship approved  mightily  the  justice  and  disinterest- 
edness of  Andrew.  He  had  righted  himself  and 
Julia  at  a  stroke,  and  people  dearly  love  to  have 
justice  dealt  out  when  it  is  not  at  their  own  expense.  Samuel, 
who  cherished  in  secret  a  great  love  for  his  daughter,  was 
more  than  pleased  that  affairs  had  turned  out  in  this  way.  But 
there  was  one  beside  Abigail  who  was  not  wholly  satisfied. 
August  spent  half  the  night  in  protesting  in  vain  against 
Andrew's  transfer  of  the  river-farm  to  him.  But  Andrew  said 
he  had  a  right  to  give  away  his  own  if  he  chose.  And  there 
was  no  turning  him.  For  if  August  refused  a  share  in  it,  he 
would  give  it  to  Julia,  and  if  she  refused  it,  he  would  find 
somebody  who  would  accept  it. 

The  next  day  after  the  settlement  at  Samuel  Anderson's, 
August  came  to  claim  his  wife.  Mrs.  Abigail  had  now  em- 
ployed a  "help"  in  Cynthy  Ann's  place,  and  Julia  could  be 
spared.  August  had  refused  all  invitations  to  take  up  his 
temporary  residence  with  Julia's   parents.     The  house  had  un- 


NKW     PLANS.  289 

pleasant  associations  in  his  mind,  and  he  -wanted  to  relieve 
Julia  at  once  and  forever  from  a  despotism  to  which  she 
coulJ  not  offer  any  effectual  resistance.  Mrs.  Anderson  had 
eagerly  loaded  the  wagon  with  feather-beds  and  other  bridal 
property,  and  sent  it  over  to  the  castle,  that  Julia  might  ap- 
pear to  leave  with  her  blessing.  She  kissed  Julia  tenderly,  and 
hoped  she'd  have  a  happy  life,  and  told  her  that  if  her  hus- 
band should  ever  lose  his  property  or  treat  her  badly — such 
things  may  happen,  you  know — then  she  would  always  find 
a  home  with  her  mother.  Julia  thanked  her  for  the  offer  of 
a  refuge  to  which  she  never  meant  to  flee  under  any  circum- 
stances. And  yet  one  never  turns  away  from  one's  home 
without  regret,  and  Julia  looked  back  with  tears  in  her  eyes  at 
the  chattering  swifts  whose  nests  were  in  the  parlor  chimney, 
and  at  the  pee-wee  chirping  on  the  gate-post.  The  place  had 
entered  into  her  life.  It  looked  lonesome  now,  but  within  a 
year  afterward  Norman  suddenly  married  Betsey  Malcolm. 
Betsey's  child  had  died  soon  after  its  birth,  and  Mrs.  Anderson 
set  herself  to  manage  both  Norman  and  his  wife,  who  took  up 
their  abode  with  her.  Nothing  but  a  reign  of  terror  could 
have  made  either  of  them  of  any  account,  but  Mrs.  Anderson 
furnished  them  this  in  any  desirable  quantity.  They  were 
never  of  much  worth,  even  under  her  management,  but  she  kept 
them  in  bounds,  so  that  Norman  ceased  to  get  drunk  more 
than  five  or  six  times  a  year,  and  Betsey  flirted  but  little  and 
at  her  peril. 

Once  the  old  house  was  out  of  sight,  there  were  no  shad- 
ows on  Julia's  face  as  she  looked  forward  toward  the  new 
life.  She  walked  in  a  still  happiness  by  August  as  they  went 
down  through  Shady  Hollow.      August  had   intended  to  show 


290  THE    END    OP   THE    WORLD. 

her  a  letter  that  he  had  from  the  mud-clerk,  describing  the 
bringing  of  Humphreys  back  to  Paducah  and  his  execution 
by  a  mob.  But  there  was  something  so  repelling  in  the  gusto 
with  which  the  story  was  told,  and  the  story  was  so  awful 
in  itself,  that  he  could  not  bear  to  interrupt  the  peaceful  hap- 
piness of   this  hour  by  saying  anything  about  it. 

August  proposed  to  Julia  that  they  should  take  a  path 
through  the  meadow  of  the  river-farm — their  own  farm  now — 
and  see  the  foundation  of  the  little  cottage  Andrew  had  be- 
gun for  them.  And  so  in  happiness  they  walked  on  through 
the  meadow-path  to  the  place  on  which  their  home  was  to 
stand.  But,  alas  !  there  was  not  a  stick  of  timber  left.  Every 
particle  of  the  material  had  been  removed.  It  seemed  that 
some  great  disappointment  threatened  them  at  the  moment  of 
their  happiness.  They  hurried  on  in  silent  foreboding  to  the 
castle,  but  there  the  mystery  was  explained. 

"I  told  you  not  to  tempt  me  too  far,"  said  Andrew. 
*'See!  I  have  concluded  to  build  an  addition  to  the  castle  and 
let  you  civilize  me.  We  will  live  together  and  I  will  reform. 
This  lonely  life  is  not  healthy,  and  now  that  I  have  children, 
why  should  I  not  let  them  live  here  with  me  ?  " 

Julia  looked  happy.  I  have  no  authentic  information  in 
regard  to  the  exact  words  which  she  made  use  of  to  express 
her  joy,  but  from  what  is  known  of  girls  of  her  age  in  gen- 
eral, it  is  safe  to  infer  that  she  exclaimed,  "  Oh  !  I'm  so  glad  !  '* 

While  Andrew  stood  there  smiling,  with  Julia  near  him, 
August  having  gone  to  the  assistance  of  the  carpenters  in  a 
matter  demanding  a  little  more  ingenuity  than  they  possessed, 
Jonas  came  up  and  drew  the  Philosopher  aside.  Julia  could 
not  hoar  what  was  said,  but  she  saw  Andrew's  brow  contract. 


NEW     PLANS.  291 

"  I'll  shoot  as  sure  as  they  come ! "  he  said  with  passion. 
"  I  won't  have  my  niece  or  August  insulted  in  my  house  by 
a  parcel  of   vagabonds." 

"  O  Uncle  Andrew  !  is  it  a  shiveree  ?  "  asked  Julia. 

"  Yes." 

"Well,  don't  shoot.      It'll  be  so  funny  to  have  a  shiveree." 

"  But  it  is  an  insult  to  you  and  to  August  and  to  me.  This 
is  meant  especially  to  be  an  expression  of  their  feeling  toward 
August  as  a  German,  though  really  their  envy  of  his  good  for- 
tune has  much  to  do  with  it.  It  is  a  second  edition  of  the 
riot  of  last  spring,  in  which  Gottlieb  came  so  near  to  being 
killed.  Now,  I  mean  to  do  my  country  service  by  leaving  one 
or  two  less  of  them  alive  if  they  come  here  to-night."  For 
Andrew  was  full  of  that  destructive  energy  so  characteristic  of 
the  Western  and  Southern  people. 

"Oh!  no,  don't  shoot.  Can't  you  think  of  some  other 
way?"  pleaded  Julia. 

"  Well,  yes,  I  could  get  the  sheriff  to  come  and  bag  a  few 
of  them." 

"And  that  will  make  trouble  for  many  years.  Let  me  see. 
Can't  we  do  this  ?  "  And  Julia  rapidly  unfolded  to  Andrew 
and  Jonas  her    plan  of  operations  against  the  enemy. 

"  Number  one ! "  said  Jonas.  "  They'll  fall  into  that  air 
amby-scade  as  sure  as  shootin'.  That  plan  is  military  and 
Christian  and  civilized  and  human  and  angelical  and  tancy- 
crumptious.  It  ort  to  meet  the  'proval  of  the  American  Fish- 
hawk  with  all  his  pinions  and  talents.  I'll  help  to  execute  it, 
and  beat  the  rascals  or  lay  my  bones  a-bleachin'  on  the  desert 
sands  of  Shady  Holler." 

"Well,"  said  Andrew  to  Julia,  "I  knew,  if  I  took  you  un- 


292  THE    END    OP    THE    WORLD. 

der  my  roof,  you'd  make  a  Christian  of  me  in  spite  of  myself. 
And  I  am  a  sort  of  savage,  that's  a  fact." 

Jonas  hurried  home  and  sent  Cynthy  over  to  the  castle,  and 
there  was  much  work  going  on  that  afternoon.  Andrew  said 
that  the  castle  was  being  made  ready  for  its  first  siege.  As 
night  came  on;  Julia  was  in  a  perfect  glee.  Reddened  by 
standing  over  the'  stove,  with  sleeves  above  her  elbows  and  her 
black  hair  falling  down  upon  her  shoulders,  she  was  such  a 
picture  that  August  stopped  and  stood  in  the  door  a  minute  to 
look  at  her  as  he  came  in  to  supper. 

"  "Why,  Jule,  how  glorious  you  look ! "  he  said.  "  I've  a 
great  mind  to  fall  in  love  with  you,  mein  Liebchen ! " 

"  And  I  have  fallen  in  love  with  you,  Caesar  Augustus ! " 
And  well  she  might,  for  surely,  as  he  stood  in  the  door  with 
his  well-knit  frame,  his  fine  German  forehead,  his  pure,  refined 
mouth,  and  his  clear,  honest,  amiable  blue  eyes,  he  was  a  man 
to  fall  in  love  with. 


THE  SHIVEREE.  293 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

THE    SHIVEREE. 

( F  Webster's  "  American  Dictionary  of  the  Eng- 
lish Language"  had  not  been  made  wholly  in 
New  England,  it  would  not  have  lacked  so  many 
words  that  do  duty  as  native-born  or  naturalized 
citizens  in  large  sections  of  the  United  States,  and 
among  these  words  is  the  one  that  stands  at  the  head  of  the 
present  chapter.  I  know  that  some  disdainful  prig  will  assure 
me  that  it  is  but  a  corruption  of  the  French  "charivari"  and 
so  it  is ;  but  then  "  charivari "  is  a  corruption  of  the  low  Latin 
" cMrivarium"  and  that  is  a  corruption  of  something  else,  and, 
indeed,  almost  every  word  is  a  corruption  of  some  other  word. 
So  that  there  is  no  good  reason  why  "  shiveree,"  which  lives 
in  entire  unconsciousness  of  its  French  parentage  and  its  Latin 
grand-parentage,  should  not  find  its  place  in  an  "American 
Dictionary." 

But  while  I  am  writing  a  disquisition  on  the  etymology  of 
the  word,  the- "  shiveree"  is  mustering  at  MandlufFs  store. 
Bill  Day  has  concluded  that  he  is  in  no  immediate  danger  of 
perdition,  and  that  a  man  is  a  "blamed  fool  to  git  skeered 
about  his  soul."  Bob  Short  is  sure  the  Almighty  will  not  be 
too  hard  on  a  feller,  and  so  thinks  he  will  go  on  having  "a 


THE    END    OF   THE    WORLD. 

little  fun"  now  and  then.  And  among  the  manly  recreations 
which  they  have  proposed  to  themselves  is  that  of  shivereeing 
"  that  Dutchman,  Gus  Wehle."  It  is  the  solemn  opinion  of 
the  whole  crowd  that  "no  Dutchman  hadn't  orter  be  so  lucky 
as  to  git  sech  a  beauty  of  a  gal  and  a  hundred  acres  of  bot- 
tom lands  to  boot." 

The  members  of  the  party  were  all  disguised,  some  in  one 
way  and  some  in  another,  though  most  of  them  had  their 
coats  inside  out.  They  thought  it  necessary  to  be  disguised, 
"  bekase,  you  know, "  as  Bill  Day  expressed  it,  "  ole  Grizzly  is 
apt  to  prosecute  ef  he  gits  evidence  agin  you."  And  many 
were  the  conjectures  as'  to  whether  he  would  shoot  or  not. 

The  instruments  provided  by  this  orchestra  were  as  various 
as  their  musical  tastes.  It  is  likely  that  even  Mr.  Jubilee  Gil- 
more  never  saw  such  an  outfit.  Bob  Short  had  a  dumb-bull, 
a  keg  with  a  strip  of  raw-hide  stretched  across  one  end  like 
a  drum-head,  while  the  other  remained  open.  A  waxed  cord 
inserted  in  the  middle  of  the  drum-head,  and  reaching  down 
through  the  keg,  completed  the  instrument.  The  pulling  of 
the  hand  over  this  cord  made  a  hideous  bellowing,  hence 
its  name.  Bill  Day  had  a  gigantic  watchman's  rattle,  a 
hickory  spring  on  a  cog-wheel.  It  is  called  in  the  West  a 
horse-fiddle,  because  it  is  so  unlike  either  a  horse  or  a  fiddle. 
Then  there  were  melodious  tin  pans  and  conch-shells  and  tin 
horns.  But  the  most  deadly  noise  was  made  by  Jim  West,  who 
had  two  iron  skillet-lids  ("leds"  he  called  them)  which,  when 
placed  face  to  face,  and  rubbed,  as  you  have  seen  children 
rub  tumblers,  made  a  sound  discordant  and  deafening  enough 
to  have  suggested  Milton's  expression  about  the  hinges  which 
"grated  harsh  thunder." 


THE     SHIVEREE.  295 

One  of  this  party  was  a  tallish  man,  so  dressed  as  to  look 
like  a  hunchback,  and  a  hunchback  so  tall  was  a  most  singu- 
lar figure.  He  bad  joined  them  in  the  dark,  and  the  rest 
were  unable  to  guess  who  it  could  be,  and  he,  for  his  part, 
would  not  tell.  They  thumped  him  and  pushed  him,  but  at 
each  attack  he  only  leaped  from  the  ground  like  a  circus 
clown,  and  made  his  tin  horn  utter  so  doleful  a  complaint  as 
set  the  party  in  an  uproar  of  laughter.  They  could  not  be 
sure  who  he  was,  but  he  was  a  funny  fellow  to  have  along 
with  them  at  any  rate. 

He  was  not  only  funny,  but  he  was  evidently  fearless.  For 
when  they  came  to  the  castle  it  was  all  dark  and  still.  Bill 
Day  said  that  it  looked  "  powerful  juberous  to  him.  Ole  Andy 
meant  to  use  shootin'-ir'ns,  and  didn't  want  to  be  pestered  with 
no  lights  blazin'  in  his  eyes."  But  the  tall  hunchback  cleared 
the  fence  at  a  bound,  and  told  them  to  come  on  "  ef  they  had 
the  sperrit  of  a  two-weeks-old  goslin  into  'em."  So  the  bottle 
was  passed  round,  and  for  very  shame  they  followed  their  un- 
gainly leader. 

"  Looky  here,  boys,"  said  the  hunchback,  "  they's  one  way 
that  we  can  fix  it  so's  ole  Grizzly  can't  shoot.  They's  a  little 
shop-place,  a  sort  of  a  shed,  agin  the  house,  on  the  side  next 
to  the  branch.  Let's  git  in  thar  afore  we  begin,  and  he  can't 
shoot." 

The  orchestra  were  a  little  stupefied  with  drink,  and  they 
took  the  idea  quickly,  never  stopping  to  ask  how  they  could 
retreat  if  Andrew  chose  to  shoot.  Jim  West  thought  things 
looked  scaly,  but  he  warn't  agoin'  to  backslide  arter  he'd  got 
so  fur. 

When  they  got  into  Andrew's   shop,  where  he  had  a  new 


296  THE    END    OP   THE   WORLD. 

and  beautiful  skiff  in  building,  the  tall  hunchback  shut  the  door, 
and  the  rest  did  not  notice  that  he  put  the  key  in  his  pocket. 

That  serenade !  Such  a  medley  of  discordant  sounds,  such 
a  clatter  and  clangor,  such  a  rattle  of  horse-fiddle,  such  a  bel- 
lowing of  dumb-bull,  such  a  snorting  of  tin  horns,  such  a  ring- 
ing of  tin  pans,  such  a  grinding  of  skillet-lids  !  But  the  house 
remained  quiet.  Once  Bill  Day  thought  that  he  heard  a  laugh 
within.  Julia  may  have  lost  her  self-control.  She  was  so 
happy,  and  a  little  unrestrained  fun  was  so  strange  a  luxury  ! 

At  last  the  door  between  the  house  and  shop  was  suddenly 
opened,  and  Julia,  radiant  as  she  could  be,  stood  on  the  thresh- 
old with  a  candle  in  her  hand. 

"  Come  in,  gentlemen." 

But  the  gentlemen  essayed  to  go  out. 

"  Locked  in,  by  thunder ! "  said  Jim  West,  trying  the  out- 
side door  of   the  shop. 

"  We  heard  you  were  coming,  gentlemen,  and  provided  a 
little  entertainment.     Come  in  !" 

"  Come  in,  boys,"  said  the  hunchback,  "  don't  be  afeard  of 
nobody."  « 

Mechanically  they  followed  the  hunchback  into  the  room, 
for  there  was  nothing  else  to  be  done.  A  smell  of  hot  coffee 
and  the  sight  of  a  well-spread  table  greeted  their  senses. 

"Welcome,  my  friends,  thrice  welcome!"  said  Andrew. 
"Put  down  your  instruments  and  have  some  supper." 

"Let  me  relieve  you,"  said  Julia,  and  she  took  the  dumb- 
bull  from  Bob  Short  and  the  "  horse-fiddle  "  from  Day,  the  tin 
horns  and  tin  pans  from  others,  and  the  two  skillet-lids  from 
Jim  West,  who  looked  as  sheepish  as  possible.  August  es- 
corted each  of  them  to  the  table,  though  his  face  did  not  look 


THE      SHIVEUEE.  297 

altogether  cordial.  Some  old  resentment  for  the  treatment  of 
his  father  interfered  with  the  heartiness  of  his  hospitality.  The 
hunchback  in  this  light  proved  to  be  Jonas;  of  course;  and 
Bill  Day  whispered  to  the  one  next  to  him  that  they  had 
been  "  tuck  in  and  done  fer  that  time." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Andrew,  "  we  are  much  obliged  for  your 
music."  And  Cynthy  would  certainly  have  laughed  out  if  she 
had  not  been  so  perplexed  in  her  mind  to  know  whether  An- 
drew was  speaking  the  truth. 

Such  a  motley  set  of  wedding  guests  as  they  were,  with 
their  coats  inside  out  and  their  other  disguises !  Such  a  race 
of  pied  pipers  !  And  looking  at  their  hangdog  faces  you  would 
have  said,  "Such  a  lot  of  sheep- thieves! "  Though  why  a 
sheep-thief  is  considered  to  be  a  more  guilty-looking  man  than 
any  other  criminal,  I  do  not  know.  Jonas  looked  bright 
enough  and  ridiculous  enough  with  his  hunch.  They  all  ate 
rather  heartily,  for  how  could  they  resist  the  attentions  of 
Cynthy  Ann  and  the  persuasions  of  Julia,  who  poured  them 
coffee  and  banded  them  biscuit,  and  waited  upon  them  as 
though  they  were  royal  guests !  And,  moreover,  the  act  of 
eating  served  to  cover  their  confusion. 

As  the  meal  drew  to  a  close,  Bill  Day  felt  that  he,  being  in 
some  sense  the  leader  of  the  party,  ought  to  speak.  He  was 
not  quite  sober,  though  he  could  stand  without  much  staggering. 
He  had  been  trying  for  some  time  to  frame  a  little  speech,  but 
his  faculties  did  not  work  smoothly. 

"  Mr.  President — I  mean  Mr.  Anderson — permit  me  to  offer 
you  our  pardon.  I  mean  to  beg  your  apologies — to — ahem — 
hope  that  our— --that  your — our — thousand — thanks — your — you 
know  what  I  mean."     And  he  sat  down  in  foolish  confusion. 


298  THE   END    OP   THE   WORLD. 

"  Oh  1  yes.  All  right ;  much  obliged,  my  friend,"  said  the 
Philosopher,  who  had  not  felt  so  much  boyish  animal  life  in 
twenty-five  years. 

And  Jim  "West  whispered  to  Bill  :  "  You  expressed  my 
sentiments  exactly." 

"Mr.  Anderson,"  said  Jonas,  rising,  and  thus  lifting  up  his 
hunched  shoulders  and  looking  the  picture  of  a  long-legged 
heron  standing  in  the  water,  "  Mr.  Anderson,  you  and  our 
young  and  happy  friend,  Mr.  Wehle,  will  accept  our  thanks. 
"We  thought  that  music  was  all  you  wanted  to  gin  a  delight- 
ful— kinder — sorter — well,  top-dressin',  to  this  interestin'  occa- 
sion. Now  they's  nothin'  sweeter' n  a  tin  horn,  'thout  'tis  a 
melodious  conch-shell  utterin'  its  voice  like  a  turkle-dove. 
Then  we've  got  the  paytent  double  whirlymagig  hoss-violeen, 
and  the  tin  pannyforte,  and,  better  nor  all,  the  grindin'  skellet- 
led  cymbals.  We've  laid  ourselves  out  and  done  our  purtiest — 
hain't  we,  feller-musicians  ? — to  prove  that  we  was  the  best  -  * 
band  on  the  Ohio  River.  An'  all  out  of  affection  and  respect 
for  this  ere  happy  pair.  And  we're  all  happy  to  be  here. 
Hain't  we?"  (Here  they  all  nodded  assent,  though  they 
looked  as  though  they  wished  themselves  far  enough.)  "  Our 
enstruments  is  a  leetle  out  of  toon,  owin'  to  the  dampness  of 
the  night  air,  and  so  I  trust  you'll  excuse  us  playin'  a  fare- 
well piece." 

Jim  West  was  so  anxious  to  get  away  that  he  took  ad- 
vantage of  this  turn  to  say  good-evening,  and  though  the  mis- 
chievous Julia  insisted  that  he  should  select  his  instrument,  he 
had  not  the  face  to  confess  to  the  skillet-lids,  and  got  out  of 
it  by  assuring  her  that  he  hadn't  brought  nothing,  "only  come 
along  to  see  the  fun."     And   each  member  of  the  party  re- 


THE     SHIVEREE.  299 

prated  the  transparent  lie,  so  that  Julia  found  herself  supplied 
with  more  musical  instruments  than  any  young  housekeeper 
need  want,  and  Andrew  hung  them,  horns,  pans,  conch-shell, 
dumb-bull,  horse-fiddle,  skillet-lids,  and  all,  in  his  library,  as 
trophies  captured  from  the  enemy. 

Much  as  I  should  like  to  tell  you  of  the  later  events  of 
the  Philosopher's  life,  and  about  Julia  and  August,  and  their 
oldest  son,  whose  name  is  Andrew,  and  all  that,  I  do  not  know 
that  I  can  do  better  than  to  bow  myself  out  with  the  abashed 
serenaders,  letting  this  musical  epilogue  harmoniously  close 
the  book ;  writing  just  here, 

THE    END. 


TME 


Hoosier  School-Master. 

By    EDWARD    EGGLESTON. 


Finely    Illustrated,  with     12    full-page    Engravings 
Tinted   Paper,    and   Numerous    other    Cuts. 


CONTENTS. 

— A  Private  Lesson  from  a  Bull-dog. 

—A  Spell  Coming. 

— Mirandy,  Hank,  and  Shocky. 

—Spelling  down  the  Master. 

—The  Walk  Home. 

—A  Night  at  Pete  Jones's. 

—Ominous  Remarks  of  Mr.  Jones. 

—The  Struggle  in  the  Dark. 

-Has  God  Forgotten  Shocky  ? 

—The  Devil  of  Silence. 

—Miss  Martha  Hawkins. 

—The  Hardshell  Preacher. 

—A  Struggle  for  the  Mastery. 

—A  Crisis  with  Bud. 

—The  Church  of  the  Best  Licks. 

—The  Church  Militant. 

—A  Council  of  War. 

—Odds  and  Ends. 

—Face  to  Face. 

—God  Remembers  Shocky. 

— Miss  Nancy  Sawyer. 

—Pancakes. 

—A  Charitable  Institution. 

—The  Good  Samaritan. 

—Bud  Wooing. 

—A  Letter  and  its  Consequences. 

—A  Loss  and  a  Gain. 

-The  Flight. 

—The  TriaL 

— "  Brother  Sodom." 

—The  Trial  Concluded. 

—After  the  Battle. 

—Into  the  Light. 

—"How  it  Came  Out." 

DPriee,    post-paid,    $1.35. 

ORANGE    JUDD    &    COMPANY. 

245     JiJtOADWAT,     NEW-YORK. 


Chapter 

I. 

Chapter 

II. 

Chapter 

IH. 

Chapter 

IV. 

Chapter 

v.- 

Chapter 

VI.- 

Chapter 

vn.- 

Chapter 

VIII.- 

Chapter 

IX- 

Chapter 

X. 

Chapter 

XI.- 

Chapter 

XII.- 

Chapter 

XIII.- 

Chapter 

XIV. 

Chapter 

XV.- 

Chapter 

XVI. 

Chapter 

XVII.- 

Chapter 

XVIII. 

Chapter 

XIX. 

Chapter 

XX.- 

Chapter 

XXI. 

Chapter 

XXII.- 

Chapter 

XXIII.- 

Chapter 

XXIV.- 

Chapter 

XXV.- 

Chapter 

XXVI.- 

Chapter 

XXVII.- 

Chapter  XXVIII.- 

Chapter 

XXIX.- 

Chapter 

XXX.- 

Chapter 

XXXL- 

Chapter 

XXXII.- 

Chapter  XXXIIL- 

chapter  xxxrv.- 

>J*P( 


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